India, May 24 -- No dungeon was dark enough Dank enough To smother the songs of the Slaves Their shackles kept a metallic beat
From the place the song Rose from The dream of freedom Which hid gestation well Slaves had no right But to obey their Masters Lie with them Breed daughters Who would be impregnated Like their mothers
The men slave in the fields For a hunk of bread Two pieces of meat As a Sunday treat Blacker nipples on black breasts Had fed white milk To white children birthed by High born ladies Distant from their bodily functions Except very occasionally
There is black and there is white And written with black ink On white parchment A promise that all human beings are equal. -Lakshmi Bayi
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