Sam’s Chagrin

I dreamed we were at war with a 7-stemmed leaf
We shot holes through it’s flesh, but it never stopped growing
It was a gift from our mother
Our uncle put it in a cage
And our brothers died trying to keep it there

I dreamed we were at war with fear
The more we fought, the more afraid we became
So we drew lines in the dirt – separation for safety
We took on burdens of violation in order that we may numb the pain
The bougie protected from the mother of proletariat

I dreamed we woke up
Not down or out, but up
I dreamed we broke through the glass ceiling to find it wasn’t a woman’s race
I dreamed this separation, this color of skin and religious doctrine, were to Sam’s chagrin no ways to predict our sin
I dreamed we opened our eyes to find other eyes opening
Here’s hoping

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