Critical Race Theory
R. Allen Shoaf
You didn’t have to look hard at all to see
The sagging faces of a people defeated,
Most of whom knew slavery is a sin
But fought beside their kin who were all they had
For a way of life sure to betray them.
Many were honorable men, decent,
Who also were prisoners of beliefs
Which made it easy to deceive themselves
That they were free when others were enslaved,
Chains of irony forged with chains of iron.
With every whiplash growing more brutal
Some developed a taste for blood and screams
And sweet trembling flesh of helpless virgins.
Some others began to feel the distinction
Between beasts and men wasn’t so black and white.
I grew up in the hell on earth our war bequeathed.
I’ve seen and heard things so foul and cruel
They make my gorge rise if I think about them,
Shackled bodies so mistreated sexually
Only vermin would ever return to them.
Old as I am now, I still shake with rage
At my helplessness—what can an old man do?
I hire a black man to trim my Ligustrum,
I pay him a living wage, I shake his hand,
And when I touch him, I refuse to forget.
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