ancient bones speak…

i lie here
among
severed spines
from
lynchings
and
shattered skulls
from
clubs and shotgun blasts
so
i’ve grown tired
of
all the rhetoric
all
the promises
written
on
the wind
words
i’ve heard
over
and
over
and
over
again
words
that are
no more
than
sterile seeds
so
i’ve learned
there will be no
harvest
of
freedom
for
only the chaff
of hope
has been planted
into
the cracking clay
of
tomorrow
the husk
of
dreams
left there
along side
these
blood stained
bones
of
mine