And we can’t ever get tired
or show back ache
Through love, we just keep on giving
Though evil keeps showing us hate
I wonder if Jesus is tired
of the slaughtered and terrorized black lifeless bodies
their spirits lifting to heaven
as Angels gather round God’s throne
Earthly echoes of Mother’s and Father’s moans
grieving from the liters of black blood on sidewalks splattered
they surely hear the cacophony of Earth voices
Black Lives Matter.
God, Will you please send someone to sound the trombone?
Will you send us another saviour
to direct our way home?
I’m all of 64
and have absorbed words of Langston Hughes
I can even touch a few souls with my rendition of the blues
I have encompassed the spirt of Harriet Tubman and Rosa Parks,
Stared racist demons in the face until I’m left in the dark.
Iconic it would be, the name of John Lewis, substituted on the Edmond Pettus bridge
and Sojourner Truth on the 20
Anxious instead, that CNN reports still another black man killed.
I miss you Martin, Malcolm and Maya
Your existence took us all a little higher.
Yet we are not tired
We’ve come from way back yonder
Sweet victory is coming
V.P. to Biden, Kamala.
We can’t ever show we are tired
though our backs remember the whiplash,
humiliation, discrimination, provocation, disrespect,
sacrifice, mental anguish and suffering, profiling, subjugation, kiss ass.
we often, kneel and lay our burdens down,
our warrior shields rest, not rust
For when the alarm sounds
We jolt upright,
Swipe off the dust.
Love and God’s dominion
protect us from the sour
Holy Spirit embraces.
We have unending power.
U.S. You’re overdue.