African Violets
Running through a bed of violets,
nostrils flaring in the chase.
Broken free of midnight's galleon,
fear worn upon his face.
He's shed the chains that hold him
for freedom on the run.
He hears the gunshots as they crack,
his journey has begun.
He wears the lash marks of his bondage
on his back for all to see,
vicious scars that rip the heart,
man's inhumanity.
He wonders, why does man hate man?
Can God's love ever win?
When does the real answer come?
When does healing begin?
As he runs to a new life, he knows,
the soul never forgets.
Time can't erase a slave boy's run,
through African Violets.