Lamentation Song

Strange fruit no longer graces the Southern poplar trees

But the stench of acrid gunfire carries on Southern breeze.

Young men, Black men handsome, proud and strong

Cut down. Brought low. Hear now my lamentation song.

Kendrick Johnson.  Trayvon Martin.  Jordan Davis.  Emmett Till.

As when you were in our wombs, my sons, we carry you even still.

In our memories, in our hearts, in the anguish we cannot tell. 

We see you in the eyes of another woman’s child. In the tears we cannot quell.

Foolish hatred.  Senseless murder.  Blatant evil.  Genocide.

Mobs and guns are artificial courage behind which weak men hide.

"Stand your ground" is a lie, a deflection from a spineless man who

In the light of day cannot face what darkness emboldened him to do

Cry aloud, O Sheba! Take up a lamentation song.

Travail anew with birthing pains for our sons too soon gone.

Cry aloud and spare not until your tears reach Heaven’s throne.

He sees, He hears and for his young, dark sons justice will not tarry long!