Slaverys Hellish Grip

An elderly black man with a head of grey hair, Loyal to the farmland he worked but did not own, In a time when law and justice’s scales were not fair, Had been that way long before he was even born. Never had a home or dwelling that he could own, Didn’t have a bank account or savings to his name, But had pearls of godly wisdom gained through years gone, That could have help society repent its shame. Always told that he was not even second class, Forbidden to prove that he was a man of worth, Never able to escape slavery’s vile pass, Told that he was the inferior of the earth. Through hundreds of years in the cauldron of defeat, And suffering much abuse and hostile rebuke, Those of color are still crying out to be free, From the chronic dominance of white culture’s boot. The old black man of yore with head covered with grey, Symbol of the time in slavery’s hellish grip, Struggling each day to find an everlasting way, To be free from sagas of infernal slave ships. His ancestral family tree he could not name, Through the years of abject bondage and auction stands, They were slaves of powerful money-driven men, Who spurned ethics and brought slavery to this land. A great hope, “Free at last, thank God, I’m free at last”, But came too late for the old grey-headed black man, And it’s true to a prodigious measure of fact, That lawful freedom should offer a welcome hand. ‘til all in this land called America are free, No matter race, color or nationality, All will be confined by slavery’s evil deeds, For enslaving others is low depravity. Until each one in the nation is free at last, When we are finally one as “We the people”, We’ll live under slavery’s pall of the past, Can’t escape this ill fate until all are equal. Pray for the long-awaited day that will declare, We’re united in freedom’s just and moral quest, Only then will the old black man with the grey hair, At long last, can have real peace and eternal rest.