My Precious Baby – Poem

 

To honor the thousands of African Americans who were lynched in America. They were loved ones, sweethearts, and most importantly people yet they were murdered many times for nothing more than the fact that their skin was darker than white people’s skin. This is for all those who are unknown, nobody knows their names, nobody knows who’s loved one they were; this is for the ones who we do know, who do have names, because it makes even more real, that someone knew who they were. They had family and communities who grieved over their cold bodies. This is for them:

Why? Why you take my precious baby?

She was a good child, strong, gentle.

She knew to keep her head low,

She heeded your whip and bowed to your lash,

and this is what she gets in return,

Her body broken beyond .

If you hadn’t told me this was my child,

I would have gone on hoping, maybe

She had a better master. You ain’t

better that the snakes that move in the dust.



Why? Why you take my precious baby?

He was a good baby, strong, gentle.

He knew how to keep his head low,

He let you walk over him with your dirty feet

and this is what he gets in return,

his neck snapped by your beliefs.

You call yourself a Christian, you say

you know true love, but you ain’t

better that the snakes that move in the dust.

 

This poem.

These stories.

The emotion conveyed above is far, far from complete because there aren’t any words that can be said for the grief, the fear and the anger that mother’s must of have felt… That loved ones must have gone through.

I chose to honor the past in the best way I knew, with my words.  I haven’t had my children ripped from me, so brutally destroyed, because of something nobody can control.  I’m part of a younger generation that lives with the freedoms today we have because of the blood, sweat, and tears of our ancestors before us.

Stay Safe.

Elisa

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