Severed hands
may not reach
for freedom keys,
As legs lost
to tarnished trails
have sunk my booted feet.
The black body
has extended,
like ocean’s tide,
to flood the arc
of ancestry
cradled beneath our mother’s core.
And we are beginning to sink.
Since God’s mercy has run dry,
let man enslave Africa
with bamboo barracks
bonded to mold
my black flesh into Earth’s exhibit.
Have us carve
wooden steeples from the pigment
of our skin.
Command the soles of our feet
as welcome mats
to cleanse the bottom of your hooves.
Have our eyes,
as stained glass windows
to see out into Your glory.
Still within the scripture,
Mary dangles by the thread of her purity.
A child’s right removed at the hands of her Father.
A woman’s freedom stolen by the command of sin.
But Gabriel must have lost his wings
in the cotton,
and forgotten to tell Mary
of her blessing.
Because Black child,
here we have
a feather
for your wounds.
But, you must wrap
the gauze yourself.
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