My appetite is humble, my wealth more often poor
My voice, the voice of reason of my kin, long of this shore
My history? Redemption, with love my power and guide
Less this power and calculation that so holds my brother’s eye
Where just yesteryear, the slavers sought to sanction our divides
Did so trade upon our difference and so proffer webs of lies
Then presume, through strength “tradition” and through might
To wrest apart. To pursue their fruits of torture: as divine and even smart
For a mastery and low road serve all failures to unwind
Would scour as pattern for our future, too much failure in our times
When out of fear we still emotion and to our shame, we push apart
Would cast as servant. Bind as master
and so betray the Common Heart