THE BLOG
08/19/2013 12:45 pm ET Updated Oct 19, 2013

From Strange Fruit to Fruitvale Station

From strange fruit to Fruitvale station
blood on the leaves blood on the root
The root?
The door of no return, rewind colonialism, how do you undo a slave?
A slave in the flesh or a slave in the mind?
Never mind. I'm free.
Free to line the station of your train with the blood flowing from my veins.

I wasn't trained you say. Officer please.
You've been trained for centuries they say,
hate like this doesn't grow in a day.
You held captive another man's flesh,
but your father stole your mind,
tainted it with ignorance passed down one generation at a time.
Who's the slave I ask?

Standing over my own body spirit free,
Even if it's my back you lash, my neck you noose, my brains you spill at the station, Strange Fruit. Blood on the leaves blood on the root.
When's the last stop? Fruitvale.
My children want off.

You came down off your horse, blew out the torch, removed your hood,
letting your face meet the light of day,
with the full force of the United States government.
horse for a car, hood for a badge, rope for a gun, night for day.
Where do I run when even the light you invade?

I can't run. I won't run. I don't run. I walk. For my unborn son.
My Father said by faith and not by sight.
For my son I envision a world in which your darkness succumbs to light,
he will have equal rights to live his full life.
I am of Him, he is of me.
The thought of injustice plaguing his existence not yet in existence,
driving me to the brink of my sanity.

He gave His only Son for my soon-come son,
In His name for his future's sake, I pray.