She played it, brother. Sent the tones away
like clouds of brushfires, hinting at the young
and old and in-between with sounds and scales.
Her movements ran their course with guiding fright,
not like the orchestras of yesteryears
behaving rigidly. Compassion lost
its time and gave it up to strings of strength,
while curtains rose not knowing what to think
when music reached the seats and balconies.
It fell on stages fit for anyone
who'd kill for bloodstreams flowing with the sounds
of Heaven knocking at the souls of men.
An ending was in order. Chaos ruled
though timing stayed its way within a song
abused so gorgeously. The people left,
and sorrow filled the air with little hymns
that take one back to youthful days of old:
the tears of then, compared to tears of now,
were innocent and green. The night had shown
that love is buried underneath it all,
that truth reveals itself at Heaven's gate.
Slaves who fled their masters were classified as insane. This term came from Dr. Samuel Cartwright who was an apologist for slavery in the pre-Civil War era. This release of my Anoka Time file is a look at slavery in the modern context of Minnesota N
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