by LaVerne N. Curtis

Four little black girls
Casualties of hate
After all these years
The crime is still up for debate
Why is Justice so slow?
When it comes to my people
They blew up the church
Along with the steeple
Innocence stripped
Memories lost
Dreams deferred at all costs
Their souls still crying out
from the ground in despair
Someone has to pay
But history repeats itself once again
37 years later
And there are no men
Who stand up for truth
Speaking out loud for the fruit
Who were taken away 
By black suits
Just because of the color of their skin
Mother Earth
The melanin within
This was truly 
And completely
A ‘silence of the lambs’
On one dark day
In Bombingham

Bombingham by LaVerne N. Curtis

© Copyright 2001. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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