White Boulders , Black Shackles
Old white liberal man, going off on another white guilt rant.
Readily bending over because of the wrinkled past.
Generational guilt is no way to smooth a wounded land.
Always appeasing and promising forever freebies.
Is shallow and sneaky, void of heart and soul.
Quilting patches of color just to buy a few black votes.
Like slapping burning barnacles to the hull of paper boats.
They'll scuttle long before they'll ever be able to float.
Healing is not about owls hooting at dead moons.
Nor panthers snarling at the distant past.
Forgiveness is a long and painful journey.
Down a steep, rugged, and righteous path.
Hate is a crumbling pillar in a weak man's soul...
Love is about joining hearts and hands.
Navigating through the burrs and chains of the past.
Moving forward in grace before the whole $hit house blows.
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