Stop Dat, Child?

by Brenda L Lewis

Child, donít know why da  sons and daughters of slaves break into dem Prisons, 
built on top the graves of der fallen slave fathers? 
Young menís and young womenís herded into steel gray halls
forced in betweens barren bar walls, 
resurrect over their still wet earthen wounds 
while former slaves is yet a sleeping in der graves,
running to dem places to be kept as captive menís and womenís, 
trapped inside centuries old dungeonís with new over seers - understand- slave bosses.

More un 300 years, slave sons and daughters a laboring 
over masters fields growing cotton crops, 
used up unpaid labor, a picking , prickling, 
and a dropping in the summerís heat,
doing a laboring sun up to sun down - 
dey called us chattel -
Property- counted among da owners most a treasured belongings 
The menís and womenís forced, bruised, beaten, and maimed 
while we da laborers was raising up wealthy money crops- 
cotton, rice, and sugar cane. 

Housed in huts on slave plantations, some us more strong,  
run away, chased by dogs, and like to died or did on this here land. 
Savages, we was called to justify kidnapping Africaís childrenís,
and no one knows how many died in the middle of da sea, coming here
in a middle passage, they calls it, 
and no body knows how many survived, but dead anyway.

God raise up da peopleís out bondage
God delivered the peopleís out of bondage
 They craved no drug but emancipation- 
freedom, dignity, and respect.
Dey wanted only to be free menís and womenís... free ..  Hear free...

And freedom done come to us, some us share cropped, 
a surviving by toils and wits, and by mercies, 
some saved and borrowed bought lands...good lands, 
came independent free menís and fine ladies, 
and many a mens made travels to do a days work, lived in flop houses so was away, 
not cause dey had to be, not because dey wanted to be.
we dat lived has died for our freedomís to this very day, 
we worked the cause to make it better for you all.  
Child, just don't give up. We had many a pains and sufferings, an injustices, 
torments yet  we honorable menís and womenís, we done ours best.
We was living close to God, loved our God, 
and worshiped God, sang our praise and sorrows. 
Child, don't you know greatness and sorrows buried on these lands.

Donít know why the sons and daughters of slaves break into dem prisons-
built on top the graves of der fallen slave fathers? 
Running into jails- armed camps- set aside to hold young menís and womenís.  
In der they be keeping  captive  menís and womenís  behind bob wire fences, 
locked up and locked down in 4 by 8 foot cells,
ordered by steely guards to get up, sit down, turn around, and bend over.

Derís a sorrow in the lands. 
Oí Hear them Grandmaís and grandpaís buried on this here land 
ďStop dat  you go be free  go be free... be is freeĒ

Stop Dat, Child? by Brenda L Lewis

© Copyright 2007. 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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