Juneteenth

Nobody's free till the last one is free
free at last
the people shout...

The beauty of my people
is deep
like the foot of the ocean floor
when we waded on through our private Mississippi
like the trod of a horse's hoof
when it steps into rain warmed mud
as they followed

Nobody's free till the last one is free
free at last
the people shout...

The beauty of my people
is deep
like scripture
like lightening doing calypso
like the spread of the sky
as smoke from a grill whispers
to the nose, and wanders by
Like the way of the wilderness
when you're wandering

Nobody's free till the last one is free
free at last
the people shout...


The beauty of my people is deep
like Lumumba's lost song
like the refrain in Billie's ear
stronger than her gardenia
like the sound of nueve africa
like the clip of the drum
as it pauses in prayer
waiting
for the spirit to fall

Nobody's free till the last one is free
free at last
the people shout...