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I do not dream of yesterday
When all my troubles seemed so far away
But they are as near as my finger
Touching the nose on my trembling face
And so false it is
when my choir sings on Sunday mornings that
trouble don’t last always
I can clearly see the morning mist clearing from the heavy
Lynch roped branches of southern trees
And weeping women and children on their knees
As their men swing above them like
Orchards of strange fruit
Musical strains softly played in the background
The ghost of Lady Day
Still singing from the long rusted microphone
I told you so
But this ain’t yesterday
When we were meagerly rewarded and
Severely chastised based on our daily yield
The long unending
God forsaken crisp baking hours on the plantation field
Back to being less than three fifths of a human being
And what I am seeing isn’t a vision of long ago Antebellum
It will be the new norm once again
And when it happens
It’s just a matter of time
maybe tomorrow
You can see the new building blocks neatly placed over the old foundation of this nation
Each day I watch the news reports
We start to assemble in military formation
Packing the stacked conservative courts
Tickets back to plantation fields not limited to southern states
But all across this once great nation
To sing songs again in unison that death is our only salvation
And this ain’t yesterday
Tomorrow
Coming into view faster than traffic on I-80 at evening rush hour
I must stop what I’m doing in a minute
And complete my online training for slurred speaking
Sessions are remote
Gotta complete this soon before they take away all my rights
And my ability to even vote
God will be my new representation in the senate
The house
the presidency
and all I will ever be once again
is uneducated
illiterate
and my poetic pen will be a memory I must keep to myself and never teach to another
will kiss my family today before they are sold
tomorrow
just like they were sold
yesterday
it is coming
yesterday
it is coming
tomorrow
