Who'll Speak For Us? Poem by Quame Boatmann

So long have we been laboring
Too tight have we been stretched
Sharing the fate of Job
As we’re always denied the fruit of our labour

Now our faith is tearing apart
For our hope keeps on running from us
Our tattered garments are blowing away
And our pockets, so full of only our hands

As we struggle like servants in battle
Against armies of great kings
Our grieving lips never reach,
the deaf ears of our leaders
Who are concerned more on their bellies

Silence has become their tongue
And fear is their finest apparel
Always giving us phantom assurances
And their conceived promises birth disappointments

So who’ll speak for us, who’ll put things right?
That we take off our tattered garments
And seal our long torn pockets
Who will speak for us?