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May 2016
My eyes are the same
So is my smile
They are mine
And they know me well
If you wish
You will find me in there
Far beyond the gates of imagery
Where no streak can penetrate my face
For tears cannot blemish a stone
Nor plow a field where there is no soil

I’m not a revolutionary
I’m too comfortable for all of that
I’ve never witnessed the horror that creates outrage
I’ve never felt the outrage that creates courage
I only can think of myself
And my plans
How can I give my life for strangers
And give up a father for my children?
And because of this
I stand where deeps lakes are drained
Shallow and empty

It is almost too late to change
I read books and wait for my reaction
I ignore what is primary as ignorance lives in haste
I am being counted on to defend the past
But the revolution was justified
Yet I can only assume that what is true
Was true
And what was being fought for
Was not God’s command
But instead what man sought to command for himself
And when he chose to live for his people
They killed him
Because the truth must die in this place
And he wore no make-up
For the glory of man will never be given to an imposter
Dedicated to those martyrs of Africa who were killed by the colonialists....
Mark Lecuona
Written by
Mark Lecuona
518
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