^{after Lowell}

our mothers wrung hell and hardtack from row
      and boll. fenced others’
gardens with bones of lovers. embarking 
      from Africa in chains
reluctant pilgrims stolen by Jehovah’s light 
      planted here the bitter
seed of blight and here eternal torches mark  
      the shame of Moloch’s mansions 
built in slavery’s name. our hungered eyes
      do see/refuse the dark
illuminate the blood-soaked steps of each  
      historic gain. a yearning
yearning to avenge the raping of the womb 
      from which we spring