On Top Of My Moon

On top of my moon          
To my ancestors, my mind has traveled as I look down on ancient segments from Egypt and the Messiah pulled from the depth of the Nile my mind bathing in the Blue Lagoon            
I sit in the pews my head silently bent in prayer and wondered how your aching feet traveled through, snow, mud            
Traveling by the North Star to find the answer to conditional love            
         
Hues of sunbathed skin sold on chopping blocks            
In the final breaths of begging in the asunder from family, forced in exile from our natural existence to sow the earth of their crops            
Asking where the Creator was, to turn the captors’ heart to stone without a key to unlock            
God did you hear their hymns when freedom died on crying lips before it was ever born            
Generations still in disarray under the political abuse from Jim Crow’s scorn            
My history is paired with whips and chains            
Given in captivity a plantation last name            
             
Echoes of reminisce to let my people go breezes on the wind, intellects in bondage remain still            
I hear the begging for one’s life from the childish voice of Emmett Till            
God where were you to allow such death and then corpse abuse            
Have we not suffered enough, Thy Should Not Kill, your commandment yet you permit wraith to be set loose            
How long must I suffer on my knees when I pray up to you            
Are we still promised the afterlife as you once promised when the water of our soul is met            
Baptize and take up our cross in the valley of the shadow of death            
We still get persecuted, we are still down here marching, our demands to love in peace are not being felt            
Is there any other way to survive this life when we cannot even come together to meet            
Suspicion is always in the greet, the men in blue called for walking on the wrong side of the street            
Yet, you allow our necks to be crushed with knees, and kicked in our side with brutal feet            
             
I am sitting on top of my moon            
Closing my eyes, deafening my ears to the word said on the airwaves, nigger, better yet, in bad taste, a coon            
And you ask us to turn the other cheek            
For what, we are sinking in quicksand, you knew the universal plan in advance, were we ever allowed to be            
Is anyone home in Heaven as I gaze up there            
There is no long distance cord down here to extend that far to tell you this world needs your guidance we are in a native land and going nowhere            
             
You took animals in pairs into the Ark            
And cursed the innocent man who bears the armor of society’s shame, feeling like he is still roaming in the dark            
We are not Cain, and we are long past the descendants of Abel            
In your creation, we have to survive with tied hands, our dreams have become incapable            
             
On top of my moon            
             
#CelebratingBlackHistoryMonth