A Christmas Tree For Baby

I called out to you and pleaded, but you would not let me die.

I screamed to heaven and asked your God why?

A day a king was born to save man brought me so much pain, this I could not understand.

While others laughed and ate their fill, I weep many tears and scraped up our babies stool.

How can you say this celebration is for me?

That is my child hanging from that Nigga Baby Christmas tree.

You could have told your daughters no, but you did not think that my child had a soul.

With green and red ropes tied around their little necks, my child hangs from your Oak Christmas Tree.

I know you taught us that Jesus is heaven sent, so I am sure he would not want my babies to be your Christmas tree ornaments.

I begged you to take me instead, but you said you needed me to warm your bed.

I pleased with you to let me die.

Then I screamed to heaven and asked your God WHY????

A day you celebrate a divine birth, is the day my babies had to die.

Swinging like pendulums in the wind, my baby’s limp body never bent a limb they were just the right size to be used as an ornament.

Plantation owners from miles around came to sing hymns and admire your tree, full of little black babies from one month to three years old.

Their little heads painted in bright colors, bodies white washed with paint, as they swing with the harmony of the masters’ hymns.

The next day we cut them down and buried their bodies, knowing that the masters will bed us again as we scream with agony and hate from within.

I will murder my womb, castrate my heart, and from now throughout eternity, I will scream every time I see a Christmas Tree.

I screamed again and asked your God WHY??????????, but, he never answered me because his is in the image of the Masters’ that decorated that Nigga Baby Christmas Tree.

A CHRISTMAS TREE FOR BABY