Mama, oh mama,
The sun is too bright.
This knee on my neck
carries the weight of
centuries and stone.
Oh mama, I can't breathe!
The street smells like heat
and the sweat of ages
upon ages of silence,
my face pressed like a wildflower
into its creases and grime.
My blood runs, and mama,
I can't breathe!
Mama, oh mama,
what can I do?
I'm dying amidst brotherhood blue,
while the spring breeze
brings a hint of glory
that I know is meant
for skin more fair
and pockets more full.
Mama, oh mama!
I can't breathe.
The weight of the centuries
is crushing.
A single knee
and I am done.
Thank you Stacey. Painful, drives it home in yet another way. May his memory be for a blessing and my his legacy be the catalyst for real change.
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