My home state has the third highest number of lynchings on record, and one of the people killed was a cousin of my maternal grandmother. During college I sometimes imagined what his final thoughts were and wrote a short poem in his honour. This poem is a prayer that, while showing him in pain, ends with him in peace. May his memory be eternal.

My Soul

Though I am led to the end
A break upon my heart doth mend
Sing on to me an earthly choir
With crack of rope and flames of fire

Young man this fate I do not dread
Young lady do not give me bread
For my soul is going beyond the physical and mortal thirst
My soul is going higher than the heavens and deeper than the earth
Some people say this soul of mine, a thing, should not exist
For to their eyes of hate and mortality it be a simple mist

Once was the night, the mist it lay and life was in my eyes
Now comes the day and I must go, the mist, my soul, shall rise

Though I am led to the end
There is no break, no tear to mend
And so fades out the earthly choir
Drowned out by the crack of a rope and fire
There is no pain for blessed be
I hear not flames, but that great choir heavenly

Sing on, O melody vast and broad
Sing on, my soul, a martyr before God
In heaven,
Forever and ever,
Amen

The images featured in this post are from Scotty J. Williams.

This poem is © Scotty J. Williams