From the branch above (mgp2)

From the branch above

I've seen too much.

My leaves bristle at the sights I've seen.

Man-made death doesn't place well in the Creator's forest.

I've seen men strung high on the branches of this poor tree

Those men fought, kicked and scream for mercy; but in return, the prisoners were laughed at.

It pains me to remember; if I could shudder, I would.

I hear them. They have brought a new victim.

No Creator, I don't want to take part in this horrible act.

Let my limbs break! Allow me freedom!

A man steps out with the familiar piece of rope in hand. He walks over to the tree, looking for a strong enough branch. He spots me.

I hear the muffled screams of a man and a thwack!

The beatings have begun.

The man with the rope disappears.

I am but a branch. Nothing more than a piece of wood given for life.

I don’t want to take it away.

Go! Let this man live! Let this world live in peace! I want to scream.

But I am nothing more than a branch.

The Rope man comes back, his victim in tow

No. No. No. No.

I can't bear this.

He places the rope over me and around the poor man. The man begs for mercy, tears streaming from his eyes.

Nothing.

They lift him up and he begins to writhe.

Higher and higher they pull; more and more he convulses.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

God, why are you doing this to me? When will this end?

Will you let me break?  Will you let me burn in the hell you choose?

 The tortured soul stops. The men whoop.

I am now a murderer once more.




Yale-New Haven Teachers Institute
The Negro Holocaust: Lynching and Race Riots in the United States,1880-1950
by
Robert A. Gibson
http://www.yale.edu/ynhti/curriculum/units/1979/2/79.02.04.x.html