DIASPORA GUILT

Is this what my ancestors felt
When leaving their homes for a better world
No longer I am on the path they took

Diaspora guilt
Now history is a bitter pill
Dreams scheduled to be killed

No compensation for the hate
Ignorance is the only food they ate
With another serving on their plate

Diaspora guilt
Now the truth is a bitter pill
No standing up for it get out your cameras and film

The privilege can't feel any pain
They have no sense of shame
It is always the victim they blame

Diaspora guilt
Now education is a bitter pill
The blooming youth just die and wilt

Reading, writing, and arithmetic no longer the way
Now it is only words of hate anyone can say
Thoughts and prayers will not make a new day


©Copyright Thomas Dooley 2019
   
  

ONCE AGAIN

In the begging
There were peaceful things.
As time went on
The man has made walls.
Tall and strong
Holding in, keeping out

Someone seeing
The justice being denied.
Need protection
Not from evil things
Not from greed
(but from you and me)
Stores of the past
Of our past
Denied, hidden in time
Time and education will release
The stores from their prisons

Stores of Denmark
Stores of Nat
They had solutions
Like many other solutions to fallow
A solution to be heard

Why should I question my friends?
They show me no contempt.
Only if I'm not true to my words
My friends are the words.

A child with old eyes
Grandmother's eyes
With a warm soul
A warm heart
"I'm your friend," she said
(I would smile)
What will this child be like
When she sees the anger and fright
When she proclaims who she is
And who her father is

When I'm told of other people's sins
I feel I should commit even worse sins.
To feel worthy to forgive
Something to confess

History is too scary to forget.
To truthful to remember
It is repeating its self-today
Ignorant mistakes won't change it.
It is the same thing today.

Will we return to segregation
When some say that is the only solution
Restricted from my brothers and sisters
Because we are different
Not to learn from each other.

As a child
The little boy
Would wave the flag
During the parade
Now he argues and complains.
Because he can't burn that flag today
Once again, we look to find
Our ancestor's graves
Across, a rock, a mound of dirt.
Without any words
Not many clues, for some to know
Where they came from

We look to the sky
Once again