That Pain Its Stain Will Ever Remain

He stood musing when Charles turned king
At the altar of ethnic ethics
Virtues are more for politicking
Values look good on a crucifix!

Imprisoned in dark past’s shadows
When his forefathers too traded slaves
He hears aloud screaming echoes
Of lesser lives consigned to graves!

“O’er ages run our sins of skin
Black blood nurtured our prosperity”
A newfound king’s profound chagrin
“Our sins won’t spare our posterity!”

This passion of compassion stinks
Of a holy vein beyond profane
“A Black Man Is What A White Man Thinks”
That Pain Its Stain Will Ever Remain!

© 2023 Vikas Chandra

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