Author Thelma C. C.
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"POEMS ARE: LOVE--RELIGIOUS--JINGLES--EVERYDAY MESSAGES"
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"Who Was I"
| Posted on March 30, 2012 at 6:30 AM |
 Who Was I Was I my mother’s son, Was I the beloved, hallowed born male in my family, My father’s delight and yet, There was born two, But now tragically only left to bring in the family off spring only one, Were my cries, my bemoans for life, For help, Below the moon that pierced the dark, velvet sky, That aphotic, cryptic night, Did they echo the cries that took place way back when the slaves cried and bewailed as they were drug to the shores of no more? Who was there to hear my cries of help? Who was there for me as I let out my last sighs as I died? I lay on a cold slate three days like a tossed away slave, Cold, lifeless and alone, Ignored, and tossed to the side my phone, Just long enough to cover up any truth that might would have come out, Now framed and being blamed, Disgrace being placed by my name, I fought as hard as I could to live, I tell you, I did, I was ever so brave, As on the grass I lay, That night that I fought for my life and my right to live and travel as I did, I fought to be where I was, I fought for the right to walk freely as me under that beaming moonlight, I fought for the right to be a dark skinned man given the right to place a hood of cover over my head because of the cold and rain, I fought for the right to embrace my family again, But tragically, A frightful, calamitous, Insufferable, appalling, gruesome, grim demise would be my plight, And now after all you have done, You try to damage and further devalue my lifeless being, You want to squash who I was like a bug under your foot with no meaning, But, The heavens have intervened, The world has told you no, This is and was our son, A human being, Our brother, A destined father, His mother’s and his dad’s adored son, Our beloved one, Black, White, Hispanic, And oh no we are not done, From the highest office, To the furthest part of the world, Just about everyone, They heard and hear the grief of a Grieving mom and dad, They hear my cries too finally although I do not dwell any longer under the sun but rest in the Son, Justice for me is reigning, As I rest with God’s son. We got you covered Trayvon Martin. AS An Army We Must Break The Violence So Fluid In Our Society For One Cruel Reason Or The Other We Pacify Ourselves With. For You See It Never Matters When It Is Not At Your Door Step! |
Categories: Poetry