CHANGE

It's been a long time coming--so long in fact the expectancy has waned. The tent dwellers no longer stand in their doors gazing at the stars and the watchers in the fields have given up. The walls around the city keeping out light stand waiting to be torn down as people stumble over the rubble in the streets. Strange how no one desires anymore to build up the waste places but rather stand around shouting about the rats roaming the gutters. They'll come chase them out when the dollar is right.

One voice cries continually warning and begging for change. But opposing mobs gather around chanting the name of their chosen one of the hour as he hides himself among the crowd waiting for the frenzy to peek in order to make an entrance. Those hoping for change lift up rocks from the rubble and begin to silence the voice--but he still stands.

Unrelenting in their attack but somehow their minds are persuaded to pick up the pieces scattered and begin to rebuild. They remember how they crafted the city and paved the roads. They remember how to pray.

Tired Feet

My feet tire of.....

ignorance haughtiness judgment bondage standing still

My feet tire of.....

My Resignation Letter My Resignation Letter

Ain't yo' maid, Ain't yo' maid, ain't yo' mammy! ain't yo' mammy!

Ain't yo' slave, Ain't yo' slave, ain't yo' cook! ain't yo' cook!

Dem days is ovah! Dem days is ovah!

Slave Pen Owned by: Captain John Anderson

On Display: National Underground Railroad Freedom Center

SlavePens

TheHousesthatHatredBuilt ItriedtobracemyselfasIenteredintothewoodenoversizedcoffinthat heldatanygiventimeseventy-fivedevaluedsouls.ButIcouldn’tprevent thetears;Icouldn’tdenythevoicesthatstillscreamedfromthosewalls. Whosefeethadtouchedthosecoldfloors,whosesweatandtearshad stainedthosebenches?IsatthereandIwept--Iweptfortheirsoulslong sincegone IweptformyselfforsometimesI’mnotmindful Imourned thosewhohadbeenstrippedfromtheircountrytodiedailyinastrange landonlytohavenofinalrestingplace,nosacred burialground. Haunted,theirghostsstillroam.Iheardthecriesofmothersfortheir children.Isawmencrowdedlyingonthebeamsaboveandacrossfrom themthenameofthedemonicsoulwhohadenslavedthemthere, Anderson.Iwantedtohatehim!AndIwantedtohatemywhitebrother whomIlove Somehowsittinginthathousethatwasbuiltfromhatred lovestillreignedinmine Ibelieveitcamefromthestrengthofthosesouls wholefttheirbrokenheartsonthefloorofthis slavepen.