Free At Last

“Free at last!” the preacher sang.

What, dear God, have you made?
Who can understand?

We know, we think, the planets drive.
We understand how microbes thrive.
What came before is written down.

“Free at last! Free at last!”
So the dreamer sang,
“We shall overcome!”
Before the bullet rang.

What, dear God, have you made?
Who can tell, importance make,

this colored social impact;
defies, ignores, the spirit
and the mind;
this prism jail intact?

Wept, we two,
clear crystal tears.
His blood is red.
My blood is too.
What color, God, is yours?

~.~