January 6, 2009
By Juan Anguiano, Salem, OR

The one who gave us freedom,
Never taught us the law.
We were no longer slaves,
But we were those with pain.
We had been sold and traded.

Our families torn and distant,
Our children grown strangers.
Our bodies carried the scars,
Our palms aged with work.

The one who claimed our existence,
Never showed us the roads.
We never found the rest,
But we hoped they lived.
We had been the Negros.

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This article has 1 comment.

dule_91 said...
on Jan. 17 2009 at 10:30 pm
What a great poem with an inspiring topic! Good job!

dushan :)

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