Christian Hardy Poet Narrative

The Sharing of Crop

They said we would be rid of our chains 
But, they've only grown tighter 
They said that welts would heal and fade
But, all I feel is the tenderness of new wounds
We’re always looking up at the stars
Cause our feet never seem to touch the ground
We HANG above the rest!
But not in a way you would expect?

So, this is the sharing of the crop?
They issued us free, right?
But I don’t feel it
That emancipation proclamation of devastation 
Of disappointment
The ink is distorted by the tears of decomposed slaves

Waiting to be seen and heard
They laugh at our pain
What pleasure is there to be gained??

You call yourself “sharing?”
Only taking away more from us 
Say that we just have "a little more" debt to work off
As the hours turn to days
Days turn to weeks
Weeks turn to years

At the command of God 
They lock us behind bars
Whip us with our sins and hatred 
Discipline us with our disobedience

The captivity of our sins is too much to bare
I want to die!
I can no longer handle being alive
The muscle falls from the bones
As I become apart of the Earth
Along with the sins of my ancestors

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