looking up at the sky
seeing not rainwater, but the blood of my brother’s and sister’s.
I have no eyes,
i am in chains.
Here I present
not slain, but sewn
Deific man-made sword could not kill
him, compared to Plymouth’s Rock-
a face worn over from time.
his forefathers weren’t the pilgrims
he didn’t land on Plymouth Rock
the rock was thrown at him
he was brought there against his will
forced to open his gut.
Not to be confused with my own dream
Of a better society,
Free from bloodshed
Interlocking my hand in his.
I awaken, and his dream lives on!