18700
To my ancestors, my mind has traveled as I look down on ancient segments from Egypt and the messiah pulled from the depth of the Blue Lagoon
A once upon a time has come and gone too soon
I sat in the pews my head silently bent in prayer and wondered how your aching feet traveled through snow, water, mud
Traveling by the North Star to find the answer to conditional love
Hues of sunbathed skin sold on chopping blocks
In the final breaths of begging in the asunder from family, forced in exile from our nature to sow the earth of their crops
Asking where the Creator was, to turn the captors’ heart to stone without a key to unlock
God did you hear their hymns when freedom died on crying lips before it was ever born
Generations still are disarrayed under the political abuse from the Jim Crow’s scorn
My history is entangled with whips and chains
Given in captive a plantation name
Echoes of reminiscence to let my people go breezes on the wind intellect remain still
I hear the begging for one’s life from the childish voice of Emmett Till
God where were you to allow such death and then corpse abuse
Have we not suffered enough they should not kill, your commandments, yet you let wrath to be set loose
How long must I suffer on my knees for this low vibrational dimension when I pray for atoned sins up to you
Are we still promised the afterlife as you once said when unto the water our soul is met
Baptize and take up our cross in the valley in the shadow of death
We still get persecuted, we are still down here marching, our demands to love in peace are not being felt
Is there any other way to survive this life when we cannot even come together in unity to meet
Suspicion is always in the greet, the men in blue called for walking on the wrong side of the street
Yet, you allow our necks to be crushed with knees, and kicked in our side with brutal feet
I am sitting on top of my moon
Closing my eyes to the words said on the airwaves, in disrespectable raves, those who are living and those nestled in graves, a ni**ga, better yet, a Black coon
Excuse me, but emancipated, liberated, berated, and still, dread upon the intellect who we must face with sadness and society's doom and gloom
And you ask us to turn the other cheek
For what, we are sinking in quicksand, was this the plan in advance, by the brutal European's hand, were we never allowed to simply be
Are we not the wandering sheep, the glorified, and the meek
So, who is running Heaven up there
There is no long distance cord to extend that far to tell you this world needs Your guidance we are in a native land and going nowhere
You took animals in pairs into the Ark
And cursed the innocent man who wears the armor of shame, felt like he was forgotten in the dark
We are not Cain, and we are long past the descendants of Abel
In your creation we have to survive with tied hands, our dreams have become incapable
On top of my moon
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