Freedom, the Dream

For the month of July I have chosen to focus all blogs on Freedom and Privilege, today's poetry blog continues on that journey. Before you get to far though take a moment to check out your song of the day

"Glory" by John Legend and Common. #Tunes4UrTuesday

https://youtu.be/HUZOKvYcx_o

Glory was created for the movie "Selma" and tells the real story of our Nations History through the trials and tribulations of our ancestors that built it through oppression, slavery, pain, and love. The type of love that only those in the darkness can truly understand and share with one another.

To many people in the United States of America July is seen as a month to celebrate Freedom, and the super power that is the USA. Being able to celebrate the ideology of Freedom is not awarded to all and some do not see July as a time for celebration but the anniversary of more dates that recognized some as worthy and others as property. 

This poem is a collaboration between two poets that battle both the love of Freedom with the reality of how we got here today. This is our History through Poetry. 

Can you  hear the African drums that cry Freedom

Our DNA song stretching throughout the hollows of time

resting on the shoulders of our ancestors to pass words of resistance through our ancestral line. 

This was the song that drove slaves into the seas to escape the chains of oppression.

Liberating the souls of slaves beaten into submission knowing one day, Freedom will come.

We sang songs of freedom even in the midst of tyranny.

Drawing power from one another’s spirit while facing days of infamy.

Using the stars to navigate our path, not knowing one wrong turn could cost our lives.

Our blood still hears those African drums echoing their songs. 

Starving, their palate grew hungrier for freedom with each step forward

Risking it all just to taste freedom's reward

From sunset to sunrise they hid the blackness of their skin from a scenery of hate. 

Barely considered 3/5 human not a man, treated, with lesser value than a horse. 

The rhythmic heart songs of their elders keeping them on course. 

As they traveled down the forbidden roads toward freedom.

Senses wary of threat from land, a new evil met them

The winter breeze carried a smell,

the stench of death from the bodies swaying in the trees.

Tear stained cheeks, meer children hollering for their parents being taken by the klan dressed in their summer sheets.

Freedom, The dream

Freedom seemed like a curse, or an incurable disease.

But through the chaos, we still hear the drum patterns from the motherland urging to endure

ancestral knowledge running through the veins their blood paved the way

I hear the songs they are engraved into my soul like the atoms that I am created of

Knowing one day to will come to pass

Wars were fought & physical shackles were removed

Envisioning a new horizon guided by the stars. Hoping this new world would become ours.

As the sun rose with glistening melanin we stood tall

But in that majestic moment we were quickly reminded how Un-American they think we are.

-SoulRac, The Pueblo Poetess, 

7-21-2018.