Poet#9 - "Emancipation"



Your white child’s eyes are the same as mine,
And our blood bleeds the same color.
Even though each day I toil in your fields,
Every night you defile my mother.

You’ve beaten your family tree into my back
Until each branch is part of the other.
And before you have aged to infirmity,
You will teach the whip to my fair brother.

But I have heard freedom talk in the wind.
Emancipation you should fear, wretched father.
For my unlocked chains will equal your slow death:
A time when we will be father and son no longer.













The End

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