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

a man

not slain, but sewn

into history.

 

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!