I stand amongst the fallen trees,
Guns pointing my back.
The mob Catt calls of “Bigotry!”
Are sung like an attack.
My eyes well strong with tears unshed,
For my valiant brethren,
For my family taken beneath their beds,
For whom I wait to see again.
The mob jeers loud at my single tear,
They mock me with contempt.
They do not know my secret dear,
My tear was shed for them.
My crown bleeds red from angry stones,
But worse pain comes from words unknown.
But still I stand, even alone,
Until I’m called back home.
I whisper off my last goodbyes,
And pray my new hellos.
My nerves are calm, I close my eyes,
It’s now my turn to go.
-Rochester Payne
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