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The Chronicle Newspaper LLC

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Local Contact:  Jay Price (517) 894-4747   or   John Issac Benjamin (517)  703-7518

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Poem for Black History Month

February 4, 2019

 

I arose early one morning to hear the truth being spoken and it came in a slow Southern drag say arise voice time to pick that cotton and bail that hay

And on that day I looked into a white man's face and had to say Yes master and I knew that I was not free that day well I continue to live and I arose again one morning to hear once again what the people was telling my people what's the truth being spoken and on that day the voice I heard came from a Northerly Western white man and he said four scores and seven years ago I free all slaves you can go up north you can vote you can do most anything but was it because he had a drop of my blood running in his veins but it makes me no difference because I can still see the marks of the shackles and the chains and I wondered once again was my people really free that day well I to live and I rose again one morning to hear once again what the people was telling my people what's the truth being spoken but the voice I heard that morning came over my car radio and it was one of a black man and he said he had a dream it all men should the night together no matter what race color or Creed and I realized at that time the God only made one race he just put a multitude of cultures in it well as I pulled up to my job and turned off my car and looking at the building I saw the word GM and then I saw the word plant and I wonder do they just take the word tatianoff and instead of picking cotton we pick a steel today or is it like Gil Scott-Heron said working on the line ain't nothing but bro time when push comes to shove oh man got to put on Suit & Tie and I thought about every man I ever saw laid in a box he had on a suit and a tie well I continue to live and I rose again one morning to hear once again what the people was telling my people was the truth being spoken but on this day my Heavenly Father sent me a message saying I am not the minority Norma the majority fly hold the key to life I hold the key to color what if you took all the colors in the whole world and mix them together you would come up with the color black everything and anything is in me from a red red rose to a beautiful sunset I hold the key to life I hold the key to color and as I ran out into the streets to share with my brothers and sisters what I had learned I had to hold my head to the ground for I saw Sons of my brothers standing on the corners slinging  sags for the man doing ride do it ride by and tearing up the hood just cuz he can but the sad part came when I saw daughters of my sisters walking the streets for some crumb or none and I wondered what's my people really free that day well I continue to live and I still rise every morning listening to what the people are telling my people is the truth being spoken but one morning I am going to arise and on that day I will be there with my creator and I will be free and that is the truth being spoken the messenger

 

This poem is wrote From the Heart by Tony Mechele Pines Norton

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