Lay Of The Land

Black America’s unarmed youth is killed
Like stubble, turned under as colour is tilled
White America’s plough, with badge in hand,
Turns black youth asunder like till turned land.
Mercilessly choked, pleading for life’s breath
Choked, and choked, and choked ’til death
Hands raised, hands raised, hand raised, still
The hand was steady on white America’s till,
Stands its ground, to a mother’s innocent son,
To a boy who bought candy, no sign of a gun.
White America blithely drives its societal plough,
Black America falls further from society’s bough.

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