Photo by Anni Roenkae
Weary days of fear and foe
Deep purple pain just won’t let go
All through the day and into the night
Grief and anger fires burn bright.
My country weeps and cracks inside
Believers pray and mother’s cry
Dear God please hear us as we pray
We are sorry that we act this way.
Deep purple pain upon The Cross
No one else could pay the cost
Let us walk in your Salvation now
and humbly at your feet bow down.
I think if you were here right now we’d sit and talk about the different shades of doubt.
You would smile at my gray hair and the way things are while you sit in your old easy char…
You wouldn’t like the new technology.
It’s like Alice through the Looking Glass and all the white knights are talking backwards.
You would say, “this too shall pass.”
I miss seeing you on a Sunday and the joy you always brought to me.
Your love for us was deep and fierce, the best of your heart is what I miss…
I think if you were here right now we’d sit and talk about how it use to be.
You’d smile and say, “it’ll be alright…” while you sit in your old easy char.
Photo by Magda Ehlers
I saw fields of cotton white as snow
as blood red drops flowed down and soaked
those cotton fields and the earth below.
Yes the Blood dripped down on the cotton bolls.
As the Louisiana sun beat down that day
in June of 64 three boys came to say
we want to help you learn to vote
but they were shot down and the cotton was soaked.
Blood of black men drip down so slow
from the cottonwood tree the bodies swinging low
No one would help them, they were all alone
and the sun went down on the bloody cotton bolls.