I could cry... 40 years long... a cursed song. What a fight 40 years of night... always missing the light. Why Lord why? We believe the lies and never try. In circles we go there was no Jericho only dry dessert land. Thrist nearly kill we! It took a rock. Still we were loud and wrong not strong we did not believe the Big Man. 40 long years even after the splitting sea it took one generation long... before we see touch the Promise Land.
Tag: poetry for the broken soul
Black
My power comes from you my strength is hewn from your relentless authority I see myself now as priority. I am important I'm a big deal. I know where I stand on the pinnacle of power that I can command the very devil to disbanned and flee from me. No need to chop nor toe the line I find my peace I know I will not cease in the beauty of your lines and shadows. I am Black.
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