An Ode to Black History


The 1950’s church bombing, I can still hear my grandmother humming.
In slavery they were bonded, chains locked, later head gunning.
Brought over from Africa, then beaten to death with whips.
Trying to get a sip of freedom, but in Alabama all you could hear was BEAT EM,
although it started off with slavery, a century later, it still happened on the daily.
It began with picking cotton then later the KKK was stalking.
Hung from a tree, beaten horribly, running from the police, all these years of defeat.
MLK or Malcolm X?
Peaceful walks or violent protests?
Rosa Parks on the bus saying reject.
The freedom Riders or the runaway slaves and hiders?
The Underground Railroad, a mother’s son who was sold.
These are the stories that are being left untold.
Who would’ve known a black president would unfold,
way back in 2008 when everyone went to vote.
Even though we had justice, it still wasn’t our last pill.
Blacks like Trayvon Martin to Philando Castille,
To way back when Emmett Till had been killed.
Sandra Bland and a daughter who watched her father get hung on land,
And others being hurt for being black and being real.
It’s mothers like Sojourner Truth and Fannie Lou.
She was sick and tired but she still told the truth.
It’s fathers like Medgar Evers and JFK,
Even though he was white, he still paved the way.
Shall I go back to Lincoln? Who also helped us with freedom.
I could go on and on about previous activists.
And then there came a president, by the number of 45.
I shall not speak of his name, claiming he was apart of the Civil Rights and Hall of Fame.
I just know MLK is turning in his grave, Oh what a shame.
But we’ve come too far by faith, to stop now.
Although we might be filled with anger, and our head full of doubt.
We must remember that Black History is a thing of just not the past,
It is our story, and it won’t be the last.