Tag Archives: freedom

Not Free (1921)

Edwin Garnett Riley; Poems for Your Scrap Book, Chicago Defender, April 23, 1921

I live upon a blood washed soil,
   Where freedom's sons their rights expound.
'Tis here I breathe and strive and toil,
   And yet, in fact, I still am bound.

'Tis here the eyes of all mankind,
   In search of justice, fondly turn;
Yet they who wield the power are blind;
   The nobler law they rashly spurn.

I am not free while that which cries
   For greater consciousness within.
The boasted claim of cast denies
   To me and others of my kin.

I am not free while I must lie
   Within the pale of grottoes dim
And be accursed--I know not why--
   A victim to each churlish whim.

I am not free while others seek
   To bind me to a menial state,
And strive to prove that I am weak
   And never can be strong or great.

I am not free while hatred reigns,
   While scorn rejects my race and hue,
And sullen prejudice disdains
   To grant me that which is my due.

I am not free nor shall I be
   'Til love has sealed the hearts of men,
And truth, her mighty travail see;
   I shall be free, but not 'til then.

E Pluribus Unum (1917)

Edna Perry Booth, Brooklyn, N.Y.; California Eagle, August 18, 1917

I wonder if Abe Lincoln can look down from where he is
And see the things that happen in this land that once was his?
I wonder if his heart aches; if the tears bedim his eyes;
If Heaven is not quite perfect for him beyond the skies?
He must recall the message he gave us, long ago,
When he said, “God made men equal,” then helped to prove them so.
But are they equal? Are they free? And what is freedom, pray,
When some men’s souls are scarce their own in this fair land today?

So I wonder if Abe Lincoln wouldn’t like to just step down
To earth and count as nothing the loss of golden crown,
Just to show an erring people what he meant when once he said,
“Equality for each one,” be he black or white or red.
Yes, his heart must ache, and grieving must fill his soul to see
How they’ve abused his message since the days of ’63.
But patience, men–truth, crushed to earth, will surely rise again,
And never anything worth while was won, except through pain.

There’s Someone who is watching; there’s Someone taking toll;
And every unjust deed will reap, some day, a white man’s soul.
Abe Lincoln will yet see his words respected and fulfilled–
Will find the cruel slander against the dark race stilled.
Then, perhaps, we’ll boast a country that is brave and truly fee,
That upholds its own dear honor and its vaunted liberty;
Then our E Pluribus Unum will be more than empty phrase,
And our treatment of the dark race won’t besmirch the flag we raise.

[This poem appears in three categories: “God and Christ,” “Hope and the Future,” and “Injustices”