Trapped in a chamber of wood and stone
Distanced by miles and orientation
Drowned in white sheets of perspiration
Rocked by the rattle and hum
The gentle lies, blind to the maelstrom
Baptized in symbolic initiation
Deaf to the cries of those who’d fallen
Amid the shouts of those reborn
Guitar strums sacred notes of freedom
Pages turned versed emancipation
Murals sprayed resistance and rebellion
Opened his palms raised them towards the son
Acts of love refuel a generation
Acts of love reverse the destination
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