Black History Poetry

Hard Work

In 1745, The Ancestor was born in shackles
Tied to tree’s, not yet a farm mule but not yet free
He was raised as livestock
Pushing a solid century Mommy was a house slave Daddy picked the field clean
One snap Two snap Three snap Four
By 1760 He wasn’t a child no more
January February March April May
He picked cotton with the flock Dodging whips and chains
By 1775 The Ancestor set his mind free
He’d no longer slave in the field
He had no choice but to leave
A life lived in fear is a life not lived
He would rather send his soul to the Lord than let my fear win
Now Afro’s on the run pushing weeds past the bank
Singing tunes, making moves to where the Northern Star sinks
I’m a man, I’m Woman I’m a person not a slave
I have the Lord on my side and the Lord will make a way
The sky is dark, my journey’s long
I to take it day by day
Like the rhythm to a song I have no time to give away
So I sway
And I sway, and I sway, and I sway
As I “wade in the water, wade in the water children wade in the water, God’s gonna trouble the water”

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