Marching out of the past
Iron on their tongues
Loose chains
Clanking around their feet
A great column
Line after line
The lynched, the raped, the beaten, the burned
The whites of their eyes turned to the heavens
A low murmuring vibrating in their throats
And they march
Holding their children
In never ending lines
Each called to witness
Each showing their scars
Each shouting out a name
A place, a loved one
They stand in a great sea of pain
Witnesses to horror
Testaments to endurance
Batons cannot stop them
Bullets cannot hurt them
They are the immortals
They are the country's shame
And their children hear the call
Marching silently among them
Saw them, walked through them
And they too marched and waved
Smiled and recognized them
Offering their necks
And their blood, their sweat and their tears
And rising up heard the cry
Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité
And they too all shouted
And the world shouted
A great cry went up
So that all could breathe in the light of day.