|It is nervous now,
It will be the first.
Blending with night, both blessing and curse
It sneaks away in the fetid gloom.
Dawn breaks forth,
It hates the light
Each moment swallowed, choked by fright
Its prayers speed the rising moon
It is night once more
Its happy place
It journeys on with a smiling face
Making good time before daybreak.
This day, too close!
It is almost caught!
Each decision’s bogged in second thoughts.
It flees with everything at stake.
It is calm again,
The danger’s past.
Its mind and feet are moving fast.
It walks along the tracks of the Train.
It takes a break
It is out of breath
It’s thoughts have strayed quite far from death
It sleeps in the boughs of an olive tree
It awakes with a start
Yet all is still
It calms Its heart by force of will
It gazes about; there’s nothing to see.
It wakes again!
Lights floods the base
The sounds of hounds riled high with chase.
A rope has made Its bed a foe.
A crow caws softly above Its head,
Swinging slowly, It is surely dead.
But the world doesn’t care,
“It” was just a negro.
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