Mother Rachel come
weep for your children.
Drowning in their own fluids.
Sing a lullaby
of hope once promised.
Marching time is circling back
to the first question:
Who is my brother?
Peel away their bruised black skin.
Peel away the state.
Peel away the lies.
Pull down their golden idols.
Whip cracked, pressed down.
Hypoxia silent.
Lips pressed on child’s lips
Weep for your children,
Mother Rachel breathe.