a poem by Itu Moefe

I used to pray to the skies, mama
Hope in the same fire, mama
Bury my knees deep, looking for life mama
Why do we die, mama
When it’s not our time, mama
I watched a brotha breath his last, while white men lie, mama
It’s just not right, mama
We don’t have to fight mama
Why should everyday be a battle to stay alive, mama
What did we do wrong mama
For our skin not to belong mama
But we’ll stay strong mama
Your son still remember your song mama
Someday we’ll all be free—it won’t be long, mama

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