Look at my people. Rising from the dust of anguish and despair/heaped upon them by the slaveholders snare/ look at my people whose daughter’s forced cries/from their babies sold before their very eyes/look at us. Often the victim of the whip’s lash/yet we rise free at last/look, I tell you, at my people bruises andContinue reading “Look at my people!”
Follow My Blog
Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.