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Once my my skin matched up with the sky...

Ebony, fighting streaks of red sunlight at the speed of dawn found me

at Angkor Wat, interrogating statues who smile a Mona Lisa smile.

They knew me well, Whispering, this god made of clay told me I

witnessed the birth of Akhenaten and wept at the death of the sun.

Vowing to wait for the son of man like a pregnant bride holding sins in

her belly. Making slaves of those who skin bore evidence of the first

eclipse. Children of the first sunrise, children of the first night..

Lost, I found myself on a Trans Atlantic conveyor belt

Chained to the lies that lie beside me...

My skin matched up to whip marks. leaving unmarked graves...

Slaves sing at their own funerals...

I remember that song......