Exodus

                       Exodus



                    Feral soul amongst the reeds
                    lying still in stagnant bog
                    listening to nature’s song
                    performed by cricket, loon, and frog

                    hiding from the rage of men
                    that hunt him for his hue of skin
                    black as Mississippi mud
                    though his heart be free from sin

                    war was waged and war was lost
                    soldier blue and soldier grey
                    ghosts that walk the battlefields
                    knowing not they’ve gone astray

                    southern pride has turned to hate
                    for those who now walk freedom’s road
                    blaming them for northern greed
                    and burned plantation overload

                    children once enthralled by sound
                    of black folk singing in the fields
                    have grown to men of calloused heart
                    with crops of vengeance for their yields

                    so the feral soul lies chilled 
                    with sweat of fear and swampy muck
                    waiting for the hand of death
                    while praying for a little luck

                    dawn may see him on a limb
                    swaying in the southern breeze
                    but he vows he will not die
                    in servitude on bended knees


                    C.  Lon  R.  Bruso
                    
                    

 

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