Forged Lord, nigh the sea

Your borders have offered me less than peace.

Was not your plea that we the poor

Should flee our teeming shores for yours?

Demanding of us salt-less chores

Defiantly we stay our course.

We fight your wars but are rewarded least

You documented us as two fifths beast.

And what of old Sam Wilson’s niece?

Great she stands amidst the brine

Casting light across the sea.

I wish that captive light did shine

Toward the life you promised me.

A two score estate

To work without force.

A sack full of seed

And a half breed horse.

Instead I see

On the seventh floor

A nine year old girl

With an X on her sores.

Oh! Lady of Freedom

Can you not hear our voice?

Adored yet withholding

Those golden doors.

And the tempest still sweeps

Through the copper and concrete

From Califia’s kingdom

To the city that never sleeps.

Why should I cry at your feet?

When we…

Have lifted every voice to say

There is no joy within your plains.

Have drifted very far away

From what you say we stood to gain.

We came and with a new name

You blessed me.

Put chains on all my veins’

Ancestry.

Proclaim we’re all the same

But Plessy

Was taken off the train

Helplessly.

And He was just an eighth of me.

Temptress of Columbia

Your robe withholds what’s underneath

Each fold is for a lie you told

That made us hope we could achieve.

I curse you for how proud you stand

Inviting us into your land

In retrospect it would seem

The torch you hold sold me a dream.