To the gods of my Fathers
I have broken the cords! I have broken the cords! Your tales hide the truth About a thousand faltering steps, Your fanfares of falsehood, Your magical myths: all Melt under the enlightening sun Of my new dawn. Your battered images Shriveled, soiled by the blood of sacrifice Stink in your spooky shrines Stinking shrines Ruled by greed, Steeped in lucre. Lucre: plague that hemorrhaged your children Into the belly of waiting vessels, Across the watery graveyard of restless seas Into the callous hands of new world ogres Unto the blood drawing cracks of plantation whips, While you looked on Powerless With the disgusting stance Of conniving indifference And the folly of your thieving priests. I have broken the cords From your ageless yoke of a million years, From your ageless trap of errant trickery. Stay away, Stay behind, Far beyond the river I crossed.