Before They Erased the Story

Slaves were freed when the war was done,
yet the hatred of us was not done,
Emancipation kept us on the run,
our fight for real freedom had just begun.

The law declared that we could vote,
but much of America answered “No,”
with threats and fear at every poll,
our votes were stolen, denied our role.

The price was paid with tears and cries,
with broken bones and stolen lives,
now truth is drowned beneath new lies,
while fading history slowly dies.

There were children raised in fear,
with burning crosses drawing near,
Black bodies hanging year by year,
while mobs stood watching without tears.

The schools were poor, the roads were worn,
our hopes were bruised, our pride was torn,
yet every child that still was born
carried dreams despite the scorn.

The price was paid with tears and cries,
with broken bones and stolen lives,
now truth is drowned beneath new lies,
while fading history slowly dies.

When children do not know the pain,
the lies return and rise again,
and buried truth left unexplained
becomes a wound passed down in shame.

Because forgotten sacrifice
becomes the ground where hatred thrives,
and rights once bought through blood and cries
can slowly die before our eyes.

I can see the marchers walk,
the praying, singing, freedom talk,
the beaten bodies bruised and mauled,
while hate swung clubs to make them fall.

Now I speak so kids can know,
what hatred tried to hide below,
because forgotten truths grow old,
when history’s pain is left untold.

The price was paid with tears and cries,
with broken bones and stolen lives,
now truth is drowned beneath new lies,
while fading history slowly dies.

Eric Lawrence Frazier Poet