God, Set Them Free
At last I am free
from a language that
tried to subdue me;
And all the faces from my past.
That of statured men (on knees)
stripped from sacred dignity-
from being man.
Trying hard to dispute
that I, could verbalize those words.
World, here, my eloquence.
I speak the language of the free.
Though, can I, not hide
a truth so clear to see;
I’ve been speaking a language, foreign to me.
Countless times. Sagacity…
Never shedding a tear?
Only You my Lord, can judge.
Though, hear, this cruel reality-
Born of slave; so too, was meant to be.
Tears! Rivers, the consequence of time.
Wash me clean; please, white I’d be.
How cursed my mother’s tongue?
Yet, all I recall, sweet loving.
Nonetheless, I went running…
Escaping into what I thought was light.
Ridding me from daunted eyes.
Pray, my fathers forgive me.
I am a man of reverie.
At last, I am free
From a language that
tried to subdue me.
So hard to live (this) perceived inequality.
Compounded sins of he, who tried to silence me.
The same coming forth on bended knee.
God, set them free…
Copyright © Gavin Joachims | Year Posted 2015
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