Am I Free Yet
The emancipation proclamation of incarceration
has got me defacing public property, with words like
don't shoot, or i can't breathe.
So say can you see by the dawns early blue and
red lights, illuminating another crime site.
Melanin enriched lives carelessly taken from others,
unknowing today is the last day of life.
Just another deposit added to the treasure trove
of injustice.
Closely monitored by the blind eyes of authoritarians,
utilizing legislation of codification with invisible ink.
Visual images of atrocity captured in the day and the
darkness of night.
The demise of those in custody, reports backed up
falsely.
Freedom tarnished by the guise of the guardians
of dishonesty.
Giving deluded delusions diluted of substance
as truth.
Confident in the ignorance of the masses, and
ability to marshal the herd.
In due course, the end of all things as was
is inevitable.
Willfully, naturally, or by the measure of any
means necessary.
Consistent shoves, and pushes and jostling, the
posterior is against the wall.
Countless days, weeks, months, years, decades,
centuries pent up.
The mantle of oppression shall divide under pressure,
most abrupt.
Eruptions of pyroclastic flows from pain, hurt, betrayal,
slavery, murder, and poverty.
Ghosts of the cotton fields saying don't forget,
remember me.
No longer echoes of a wanted to be forgotten
past.
But a beacon for the future, free at last,
free at last.
Dare to dream, to hope, to succeed and pursue
happiness.
Epidermal pigmentation no longer judgements
catalyst.
But the road to opportunities for sharing lifes
differences.
Only to discover that we are all undifferentiated.
Copyright © Malcolm Burrell | Year Posted 2020
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