Black lives are one of the cheapest commodities
Possibly, a prophecy accosted me
Tossed at me; the keys to a kingdom
And promises of a broken promise land that could never quite measure up to 3/5ths of a man
Promises of hope, and a future, and prosperity
I wonder if his plans included his chosen people?
Or was it written that we would die on our knees praying in his steeple?
For I too have been persecuted
In every kind of way
It brings to mind a debt that has never been repaid
But we say; our treasures are in heaven
So we wait and pray
What is work?
To a slave
What is heaven?
But a place of escape
What is the value of a black life?
30 pieces of silver may sound about right