</ <br />beneath the hanging tree, <br />gnarled and bent old limbs, <br />cursed with fears inbred.... <br /> <br />where black folks hung for being black, <br />and later, white folks for standing beside... <br />'holy' hatreds spat, crackling in the fires; <br /> <br />acts too horrid for the light of day, <br />and the lonesome cry of the night, <br />testifying against.... <br /> <br />now the hanging tree takes different forms... <br />poverty, crack cocaine, trailer tub meth... <br />young girls put out on the street, <br /> <br />by pistol carrying punks <br />in big wheeled cars.... <br />schooled by the prisons, <br /> <br />and left to die; <br />no hope, no jobs, no chance, <br />driven by those fears <br /> <br />while the ghosts of hatred dance!<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hanging-tree/
