The Wretched of the Earth

I was born in freedom’s graveyard ‘neath a tombstone where my name scarred the edifice, cold stone and bone hard, wrapped was I in burning flag. An empty stomach, angry, held tight Another hand to clutch the long night Another head fixed ‘twixt the gun sight Just one more toe to tag. Raised by ashes in dirt and dust cutting teeth then flesh on rust they send to teach me what is just the oppressors’ fists to kiss me. And when I drink their awful wrath kicked down that darkly chosen path I’ll see it boils down to math – how many I take with me.