It’s Our Cry for Justice

(Image via OnceTwice)

Written after the unrest in Ferguson, Missouri.

I know my ancestors never were slaves, and I know nothing of hatred because of my race, but I do know what it’s like to be caught in a personal hell.

Our ancestors were slaves.  They were captives and worked like animals.  They longed to be their own people, to have freedom from the evil hand that choked out their very life.  For years they seemed to be forgotten and destined to work under the heavy hand of slavery.

Then finally, God heard their cry and my fathers were set free from their slave masters.

Only, they were never really free.

Years have slowly passed.  My people doing their best, standing up against the giant, and fighting for their freedom.  They’ve done everything they could to claim their God-given rights, but here we are, generations separating us from the law of slavery, and we’re still living in the dark.  People pretend that it’s better.  They say that it’s better, but we are living proof that nothing is really better.  The government lurks around every corner pushing us back, keeping us down.  We are hated for who we are.  We are despised for the way we are born.  We’re riddled with racism, hate and prejudice.

We want to be heard.

We want to be free.  Truly free.

We’ve believed our leaders when they tell us they’re fighting for us.  They tell us that they’re here to defend us, but just like every other political leader, they lie to us, and they kill our sons.  They tell us we’re free, but here we are still bound, still in our prison and personal hell.

So, we’re taking things back into our hands.  Do you feel the unrest?  Can you hear the voices ringing in the night?

It’s our cry for justice.

We want our freedom, once and for all, so we’ve taken to the streets.  We chant together with our fists in the air.  We want to be free from this oppression, so we riot in the night.

It’s our cry for justice.

We’re no longer satisfied with empty promises, or empty words.  We’re thirsty for blood.  Someone must die.  Someone must pay for the death of our sons.

It’s our cry for justice.

The word has spread.  Our demand has been heard, because in the morning Jesus Christ will be crucified.

And Justice will be served.