The river rock has long resigned
itself to cold;
where did the female crocodiles go
when fire hit the village?
Where did they go
when fire reduced the houses to stump walls?
A grain grown in tears fields
for orphans not satisfied
implored to wash their hands,
is meal of life
Go and tell them I paid the price
I stood by the truth
I fought anger and hatred
on behalf of the people.
I ate their meager meals in the barracks
shared their footsteps and tears
in freedom's name
I promised once in a slave house at Usher
to postpone dying until
the morning after freedom.
I promise.
