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Author Thelma C. C.

SINGER/COMPOSER

POET/AUTHOR/GOSPEL SINGER

ARTIST/COMPOSER

"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

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84 Comments

Reply Maggie Slater
2:02 PM on April 10, 2012 
This is beautiful and heartbreaking, as it should be. Thank you so much for sharing this.
Reply Jake
5:24 AM on April 26, 2012 
Awesome!
Reply Debi
2:22 AM on May 14, 2012 
Wow... :(
Reply Ms. Nine
10:31 AM on June 2, 2012 
Thanks for the follow. Your poetry has a distinct voice. Nice imagery.
Reply MCITP
6:17 AM on March 25, 2013 
It's really a nice poem. I like it very much. Thanks for sharing this. Keep updating your blog.
Reply hermes bags
1:41 AM on April 10, 2013 
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Reply Louis Vuitton outlet
8:01 AM on May 13, 2013 
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Reply r4i 3ds revolution
8:43 PM on June 18, 2013 
Thanks for sharing

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