Both ironic and congruent in how the black mans hands bled in the same manner Jesus' did. Broken skin, a result, not of barabaric acts, but of the extended handshake with peace. Peeling along the life line, good-bye my brother. Tears swim in the pool of blood you hold in your hands. Try to handshake a black man. Rough palms filled with another set, cotton or even the cross tell the story of the black man. Callused with affiction and oppression, try to shake a black mans hands.
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