The fellow came....
Mentally, the shame of his bondage
crippled the courage of his heritage
Physically maimed by an antagonistic
His lips trembled -
The rasp of his breath ...fickle
Rippling through his eyes...
the memory of death
Simple sweat stung the wounded flesh,
dressing his anguish
with a tangible tarnish....
arresting his development
"Hey...Nigga'!! Pick that god-damn cotton,
you son-of-a-bitch!!!", with a crack
on the fellows back
"Yeah-su' Masta", as if lowly
Slowly he walked through that hell,
parallel to a mass of millions,
and even more died before them
The fellow saw only dim lights,
a future of:
Never shall your eyes set sight
Never know freedoms bliss,
Never kiss your maidens lips
with her complete promise
Never have these rights
The fellow never overcame that plight,
died, and then....
another did the same