software solutions for christian media
Album: Mute
I was born November 11, 1987
an infant in a family of oppressors,
a successor of an inheritance
marinated in musket shots and red painted gold.
A heritage of more built by the bloody hands of many.
I was the first in line with millions
of others ready to simultaneously receive
our father's blessing of indebted wealth and indentured slavery.
We would work the land in exchange
for a domestic plantation with foreign slaves.
Because the south was only freed until skin color changed,
and the emancipation
that proclamation
didn't reach the east where slaves have no names.
Our father was an entrepreneur,
a man of war,
with a hand written decree from
God himself,
he was God himself,
said he trusted in God himself,
thought we trusted in God himself.
But honestly,
our father forged the divine signature
with a stolen quill on his palms, paper, and pledge.
But we still giggled when he bounced us
on his lap to the tune of Bombs Bursting in Air.
Our national anthem.
Our natural tandem.
While dad pedals, we just close our eyes
and ride.
Our mother's name was Destiny.
She had her name boldly sealed on each manifest
letter she had blanketed over the Pacific and Atlantic,
The Mississippi and The Red River,
The Rockies and Mt. St. Helens.
She was now mother earth,
staking her namesake deep in red dirt
and pilfered clay.
For Louisiana,
Destiny traded two vowels,
one consonant
and the 'y' of her name
for just one 'U'
Purchasing land by
transforming men to her new name
of dust.
Destiny formed nothing but Dust from sea to ashy sea.
She sprinkled her embezzled dust
like native seasoning
using the ingredients found in the land.
She then grew her own crop
out of household seeds,
then sent the harvest in planes to crop dust
Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan.
But we were used to the taste.
She weaned us from birth
with breast milk and honey,
humming hymns of the Promised Land
while our eyes and ears were buried in her bosom,
just feeding.
And we still drink our fill.
Just like mamma Destiny
we devour our freedom by feasting
on the freedoms of our grandfather's great-grandsons.
And maybe we wouldn't be so entranced in our mother's
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