I pray for a day
When we don’t have to turn pain into power
I pray for a day
When we don’t have to feel shame or cower
The sweet promise of freedom
In our stomach turned sour
Massacres and mobs
Hold torches screaming *******
I pray for a day
When we all rise up
Lungs filled with blood or sea water
Will you drink from my cup?
Can you weather the rain?
Can you carry the pain?
Can you listen to the voices
Of the ones that were slain?
Bodies left broken on trees
And pulled to the depth of the seas
Bodies injected with disease
And necks crushed with knees
I pray for a day
When we can grow as one
Power and pride
And second to none
In strength and stride
With no fear of a gun
That can take the life
Of another mother’s son
The first stanza talks about the consistent owning of the pain people in the black community have to do. Owning words that were once meant to demean us. It talks about how all promises of freedom made to us were followed by actions showing the opposite.
The second stanza mentions a line “ will you drink from my cup” comes from Matthew 20:22 when Jesus asks Zebedees sons if they can drink from his cup. Can we take the pain that is necessary to move our people forward. Can we not only accept the pain of our current struggles but those of the past. Not to bear them forever but to hold them long enough to understand why we fight for freedom and equity.
The last stanza is hopes for the future. An equitable one, where we can fight from the same playing field. Where we don’t have to fear gun violence