You must be tired of the black mamas/papas wails of grief
Ricocheting off streets of gray concrete.
in conflicting waves
Skeletons of past discord
Rattling as the war is waged.
You must be tired
Of seeing black hands against the wall
Up in the air
Blood seeping into ground….
Mingled with water.
Recycled to quench thirst of murderer’s daughter.
Lord, you must be tired
That their puzzle’s still left undone
They still don’t get
That Jesus is your son.
Lord, I am tired
of seeing the same ol’ script
Today a gun
Yesterday, a whip.
And now, Lord,
with the monsters that plague my t.v. screen and my dreams,
Where do I leave my heart? In which forest do I scream?
I wrote my Senator
expressed my concern,
I think even he knows
The SWAMP is getting ready to burn.
I am tired, Lord.
Tired, yet unafraid. Faith is my mainstay.
Evil will not win because love is not its twin.
Watch the devil shrink and decay like a finished penis
and eat its own ejaculated sin.
Anna Greene Dell’Era