The song of the lost
The song of the lost
Drowned out by the ghostly whispers
Begging to be freed
To move through the afterlife like leaves on a tree
Free to be -
Sad for the black souls trapped in the waters used to escape
A fate of becoming a slave
Yet somehow contained in the waters of slavery
Forever encased in the inescapable shackles of slavery
The ocean though calm
Carries secrets of chaos
Pleading to be released
To uncover the watery graves
Belonging to those who are not at rest
But are in a constant cycle of broken sleep
All they wanted was freedom
Yet what they got was a muted outcome
Forever chained by a haunted ocean
The echoes from below
Are those who chose rebellion
As an act of freedom
Just for them to be muted by a watery prison
Who had hoped they'd escape from the shadows of trauma
That continue to follow
Even after death there's no escape system
To be black was to be in situations
Where we are damned if we do and damned if we don't
Our survival, the sanctity of our minds
Is based on the trust in hope
But how do you trust a word that feels so foreign
Considering for us It is a language we've never known
Never been taught
The strength of our community
Is not to be questioned
When life and death is synonymous to the black experience
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