Roots

It seemed the job was done when our ancestors cut down that old diseased tree. We thought nothing of the stump, and the roots we could not see. We didn't understand why change seemed so slow. Why the shadows looked so long, why the darkness just wouldn't go. The tree is gone. The sun should shine. But the roots, they did remain. Though underground, though buried, those roots held strong - winding their way in vast, complex systems of death, injustice, and wrong. But the roots are coming up now. I'll grab one and you grab one too. Till the land. Get ready to plant good seed. This ground will soon be fertile, rid of things that should not be.

The world is waking up again. The pixelated evidence is so obvious to see. That he and she are you and me. We and us are they and them. And wrong can't hide without the tree. Just as images from that bridge long ago opened the eyes of a nation, a world. Once again the truth can't hide, now from a camera in a phone. And the roots are coming up now. I'll grab one and you grab one too. Till the land. Get ready to plant good seed. This ground will soon be fertile, rid of things that should not be. More tears may still be shed as more lives may still be lost. All all have not awakened. Some still miss that old tree. There must still be protests. Hold your signs and banners high. With assurance in your step and a knowing in your eye.

Because the roots are coming up now. I'll grab one and you grab one too. Till the land. Get ready to plant good seed. This ground will soon be fertile, rid of things that should not be