Black Liberty: Poem by Community Impact Manager, Lydia Watson

Lydia Watson, Community Impact Manager 

Black history 
Is the land’s prayer for mercy for the black skin scorned and the lives it’s country torn 
 
It’s the preachers tell revival story of how the nation was born 
 
Clothing the mother stripped naked and left for peril 
It’s the black power carol 
restoring a father to his anointed post 
Esteeming his darkest children in the light 
It’s the proud raising hand of 
The glass full of spirit to toast 
 
My God black history is the foggy dream 
Clouds slowly pulling back 
To see the deliverance and it’s oppressors quilts ripping at the seams 
The out poor long overdue 
A testimony and a scream 
 
Black history means to me a great deal 
It’s the length, the breadth and the strength 
Of arm pumping and pulsing with grace and wisdom of steel 
 
Black history means to me 
 
It’s the turning of the song my 
Country tis of thee to an apology 
 
It’s the commitment to the start of the acquittal 
 
Of my brothers and sisters 
Through the cracking of the riddle 
The contributions to this great America weren’t little 
What black history month means 
It’s every voice lifting 
High as the listening skies 
Marching to victory 
A beat held steady 
Traveling places we built but could not call our own 
Finally becoming what the stars written above always shown 
Through heart ache, shattered hope, the joy that was rape 
The creator did not forsake, a people born into adversity who suffered great affliction 
Produce a glory incomparable 
Though the shame almost engulfed it did not succeed 
God’s mind towards us never let us alone 
We always deserved it 
Liberty 
Let the record be filed accordingly