(poems go here) The Fight

The whites sat on their elevated throne
Protected by Crow Laws
Written in stone.
They looked from afar
With noses upturned.
While the others clung to hope in the star
That guided them out of shackles,
Parents never sleeping, deeply concerned.
Leaders that rose up from ashes,
Burnt towns,
Lynched beings,
Lit up with matches.
White and black, black and white
Fight or stay, stay or fight?
The bars of the cage grew strong.
Keeping the blacks from all they long.
They sang, shouted, preached, fought,
Looked into the nation’s eyes,
While men in sharp white hats
Continued their crimes like spies.
Few heard the cries of the oppressed.
Hearts were gated
In fear of the obsessed.
Fight or stay, stay or fight?
Their opponents still struck in the night.
No.
No more will they stand for separate bathrooms.
The shade of skin is not a disease.
No longer trapped in the tombs,
Never more forced to please
The cruel and twisted
System that binds.
It’s time they coexisted
As the one race of mankind.
No more.
They will preach when they are sore,
Beaten and bruised,
Abandoned and confused.
No more.
They must fight.
That’s right.
Fight.