my great grandmother said,
Oh, freedom
oh, freedom
oh freedom
over me
my grandmother said,
and before i'll be a slave,
i'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free
my father said,
no more weeping,
no more weeping
no more weeping,
over me
I say,
before i'll be a slave,
i'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free
Oh freedom!
Oh freedom
over me!
how thankful am i
how blessed am i
to be black
and
be free
This poem was inspired by stories from my father. This is me envisioning generations within my family singing this song (Oh Freedom) at different stages in our history. To me, that has such meaning and power.. With our society becoming more openly racially divided, its as if we have moved backwards in time. So when I find myself becoming angry or hateful, I think about what my family endured in their time, about how my father's birth certificate says "*****" on it, and how he had to drink from "colored only" fountains, and how he grew up picking cotton from sun up to sun down, It means so much to me as not only a light in the dark gospel song, but to know this was sung from the very lips that began this family in a time where freedom was not for us, touches my soul to the very core. My family is a strong family and our ties are bonded by love and Christ.
My great grandmother was a slave, and to see where I stand just three generations ahead of her, really places into my heart the realization of how much power I truly carry in my voice and just how much strength I carry in my veins.
(C) Maxwell 2015