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.