Nobody knows what lies below the depths

Of the waters that delivered slaves to their deaths

Tears & chain stained waters- prisoners wept

For crimes uncommitted to another existence

Skies that looked down & chose not to strike

Winds that cradled their breaths on dark nights

Tides that chose not to reverse & cordially invite the vessel to the murk

Seagulls escorted the engine of souls- that gave the terrors initiative to power the boats

To an unfamiliar territory- to exploit a race because our difference made the price cheap in their story

Surviving on the remains of the hogs- we were the white man’s income- their machine, we’re the cogs

To a device that in time would grow old, rust & dissintegrate as if into a London fog

To reflect into the past- alas it is a gift

A fool to that ability would plead the 5th- saying living in the past- you’ll be stuck there

You need balance- if we don’t learn from mistakes- how else will we prepare?

To be scared is no excuse to re-examine pain- if it will prevent it in the next storm’s range

To improve is one of mankinds greatest assets & traits- in all aspects, it’s profane

To return to a time of which I’ve never existed- to discover that I would’ve endured such a wrath

Is breathtaking to me in all degrees that my hands would be blistered & have scars similar to snakes in my back

To address someone made from the same sand as I- by the title “Master,” to have to comply

Otherwise it wouldn’t be wise- and my pride could ultimately cost me my life?

To either be shot- hung to snap my neck- or imprisoned in shackles as I was originally sent

To be priced as an item- labeled worthless as a human- disposing of my mind & all the jewels within it

But maintain my physique cuz it increases my value- of my cotton output to people past the bayou’s

That I’d be labeled “Nigger” “Blackie” & “Stupid” “Slave” “Property” “Thoughtless” & “Foolish”

To have comfort from my family as God would allow- since we could all be split apart before the monsters howl

One to Mississippi, One to Georgia, 2 to Louisiana, 4 to florida

3 to Alabama, or in the slammers- even worse- beat to death & racial slanders

Just because my shade implements an image of coffee beans & caramel richness

Automatically defines me as a threat to all those not in the likeness of my physical presence

Mankind’s greatest weakness is the power of doubt- But they’re greatest fear together is change

Even if we don’t admit it, we’re all creatures of habit & if we had our way- not everything would be the same

We take pleasure in killing- but none whatsoever from a death

That’s dealt home by the Gavel of Judgement- to someone whom we cherish breath

If it be a mother, father or sibbling, grandparents, friends, spouses or children

It’s never expected, which we don’t expect which sets us up for our hearts to be slain

People fear change & what is different- cuz they don’t have control anymore & are afraid it could

All be lost or finished

This is what you call a simple perspective- from a slave with a cross on his necklace…