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On Our Knees

The persistent hope of a people

By Shauntelle SmallPublished 7 months ago 1 min read
Runner-Up in After the Parade Challenge

On our knees,

we toil in the fields.

Throats scorched

from the sun, like the cracked earth.

Hoarse voices sing

Praise be to the One

who will save us from our cotton hands.

A canary song,

silenced by the sound of the master's whip.

On our knees,

we pray for our sisters and our brothers.

Faceless bodies left in the street,

mouths open

shot dead without a chance

to speak the truth of innocence.

And so, we teach our children

not to look the badge in the eye.

To offer up dignity on a silver platter,

gaze upon their shoes,

and hope with bated breath

that he does not want their life instead.

We walk among a nation that turns their cheek

to the slap of our existence. Voices left unheard.

So now,

united by a flag,

we will take a stand.

Silently protesting for our voices to be heard

over the echoes of a star-spangled melody.

O' say can you see, us down on our knees

to live in fear no longer,

in the home of the brave.


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