It was not I who spouted nonsense and lies

In a desperate attempt to overthrow the minority

With senseless hate. Or the devout frothing at

The mouth like a vicious dog. Instead I was the tree

On the banks of the Merrimack watching

Over those who ran. Ran from that overbearing

Oppression, into the sweet sea of freedom

That awaits all those who bare the term American.

No that was he, she, it, that, them and you.

The voice of fear and uncertainty. A never ending

Chain of denial, and immovable to change, a

Change that is constant. That was not I.


It also was not I who wrapped the chains

Of slavery around the hopeless and desperate

Wishing to prosper in a free land. A flickering

Candle flame wiped from existence with a

Single gush of air, sitting in a Court of Law.

Nor were the demands of separation, inequality,

Hate and discrimination that were brandished

Like a sword to hold back the masses.

That person was you, a person in power, a leader

Role model, tread setter, the one person to look

After everyone's best interests. That person,

That figure, was most definitely not I.


Lastly, it was not I who discredited your name

With intentional malice laced word, meant to

Break you down into splinters of wood.

Or stood by and watched as you were beaten

Into submission and made to think that Rollin's

Was not a place for the sinners of society.

The hand that bruised the eternal light shining

From within, and white porcelain skin, before

Soothing the hurts it wrought upon you.

Like the calm before and after the storm that

Comes in goes, drowned in a sea of alcohol,

That person was certainly never I.