Woe Betide The Forgetful...

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Woe Betide The Forgetful…

Though the body be weary and tired,

The soul burns with every lasting energy.

To where we have come,

Much farther remains to go.

The Moses exodus;

Noah’s unchartered course;

Pale the journey ahead.

Crisscrossing Middle Passage streams

Put Bermuda Triangles to shame;

To hell and back carries much pain.

In the crosswinds of changing sea’s seasons,

We can no longer ponder where we go;

But to where we must inevitably be.

We can only be where we are to be;

Because we were born to be free:

By any means necessary.

From sea to shining sea,

We shall be free.

Not like the shorn lamb

Or possum player—afraid;

But like the Loin of Judah

And Cobra of Shiva,

We shall strike back.

Free at last begets bitter entombment;

Freedom now begets sweet resurrection.