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Family Trees

By Anthony Cordova


Do you see, do you see, their family trees?

Filled with dried Black bodies, hanging from long thick branches.

We close our eyes and see so clearly, branches stretched out so wide.

Tangled roots have merged with our souls, they have become one with us,

An old part of us, so we will always remember, what was done to us.   

Strong green beautiful trees used as tools for hatred, to hang innocent Black lives.

Old trees, so strong, so tall, having no choice, having no power, in how they were used.

Much like us, just like us. We were used because we were strong, resilient, and Black.

Much like us, just like us. Trees were used because they are strong, resilient, and green.

Strong green heavenly peaceful and calm, in the cool shade of a strong green tree.  


Those trees, those trees have become part of us, like family with us. They keep us strong,

And made us stronger. We see old, beautiful trees every day. See how they remind us,

Of whom it was that hung us. We will never forget what was done to us.

Trees will always remind us.

This is why we see dried Black bodies hanging from strong green trees,

With long thick branches, stretched out so wide.


Blue and white eyes don’t want us to see, what we see,

But we see and will always remember. When we close our eyes

And think of all the Black lives that died, all we see is old, beautiful trees,

Green with long thick branches stretched out so wide, greeting the souls

Of hanging Black bodies. They don’t want us to see want we see,

But we see, and will always remember their family trees,

Filled with dried Black bodies, hanging from long thick branches.

They don’t want us to see what we see, but we see their family trees.



The Cool Night Air

By Anthony Cordova

In the cool night air, I leave my life behind me.
See my life before me, where I yearn to be true me.
I am where my life runs free, with stars above me.
Seeing passed lives run free, see life my history.
I come here to find you, a life that has passed.
In the cool night air, beyond craters and stars,
Past life and death, before birth and pain of earth.
I follow translucent colors, leading me to you.
I feel past you, present you, eternal you.
This is you before life, and after death.
We loved and lived, and died and lived, true life in us.
Created again, never destroyed, always a soul.
Again we are one, three and four again, once more.
Like before and again, endless life and love,
Before and again, in the cool night air.

A Prayer

By Anthony Cordova

Protect us.

Danger is raging inside us.

Horror is made to consume us.

Camouflaged darkness is humanity.

Blind is all we are, this is who we are, and how we live.

Our hearts beat in fog, covered by self drowning doubt.


Do we feel the love of a kiss?

Do we know the taste of a bloody lip?

Is that love or the pain of the back of a hand?

No one knows the secrets we hold, or the scars we hide,

As the old turns hidden lies into truth, as centuries pass by and by.

Our souls wonder in caves, we don’t know why we die.


Why do secrets we hide kill our souls?

For generations to come, we invite more to come in.

As we watch our children die, we say we don’t know why.

We don’t see deep inside, we never allow ourselves to be or see.

Who and what are we, when and where did we become nothing?


Protect us.

Our pain is utilized and internalized against us.

Why are we old before we realized, the damage is done?

Has been done, with grown minds come the memories of children.

Filling in blanks,               fake memories      

                         not true,                              not real.   

We feel, we don’t feel.         We feel, we don’t feel.

                                         We don’t feel.

               We don’t understand.

Are we men or women?

                                            Are we human beings or sprits?

  Are we nothing?                                   Remnants of a big bang.


Protect us.

Hidden memories strangle us.

Always held in the grip of life memories that hide. 

Just in a slow death, kudzu killing a strong oak tree.

We hide our past. Feel it haunt our future, our joy, our peace.

What is this, life or death, life or death, life or death, or death?


Protect us.

Which way will we travel?

Up down, left right, east west, north south?

Can we be in or out, off or on, seen or not, or stop?

Can we just be, can we just be still, and know to be still.

In this universe can we just be, be one and all, be love as love.

Which way will we travel, to be still, to be one self, and many?


Protect us.

We are the danger raging inside us.

We are the horror that consumes us.

We camouflage darkness to create society.

Blind is all we are, this is who we are, this is how we live.

Our hearts beat in fog covered by self drowning doubt.