Black History month

A time to remember

A time to remember the struggle of black people

The struggle of my people

You gave us the shortest month of the year

Pretending that you care

Pretending that you regret enslaving my people

Pretending that you regret putting my people in shackles

You forced my people to work

Long hours in the cotton fields

Without a dropp of water

To quench our dying thirst

Without a piece of bread

To relieve our hunger

We worked for you

Not by choice

But by the jagged edges of the whip that watched over us


Without a heart

You let us work

You watched our close to lifeless bodies

Struggle in the fields

To please you

Not by choice

But by the whip that watched over us


With little pieces of cloths

We wrapped our hands

Desperately trying to relieve our aching palms

We worked for you

Not by choice

But by the whip that watched over us

And all you gave us was a month?
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Copyright by Mark Dixon,2003. All Rights Reserved.

Mark Dixon

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-history-month-2/