A tribute to our ancestors for all those that lost their lives and those that survived..

There should be oceans of tears (sung twice)

This ink is not my blood

What right have I to speak

What right have it to speak

Think my words

the salty oblivion

to swallow this globe

submerging continents

mother's one perfect tear

for her children

there were children

in that small cramped space

giving birth

in fetal position

to still born cosmos

tiny infinites

with mayhem as midwife

below deck below death

below breath was hope

hidden in heart beat rhythm

now I see our children are

below deck

crammed into small cramped space

but the wooden planks

are blocks

and stoops

and streets

but our heart beating hope

tells me

we don't have to live that metaphor

for we are the lineage

of stars and suns

look at the sky

and see your reflection

forgetfulness would have us think

the oceans dreamt them

but galaxies do litter the seafloor

no one can ever take a way

our before

they sunk

so that we soar

the hung

so that we soar

they sung and sung

with tears in their lings

so that we soar

thisis not a metaphor

this is not a metaphor

this is not a metaphor

Middle Passage