He didn’t hear a word
He never heard the jury
Say the phrase Not guilty
All he heard was
His mama screaming
Oh praise the Lord!
Her tears and prayers
Had worked
And he met her eyes
Tears streaming down
Was he innocent?
No Lord, no
But he wasn’t guilty
Of what they had said
And blamed him for
But his mama knew better
She knew he’d rather be dead
Than lie to his mama
About something so big
As taking the chastity
Of a white woman
On a cold Friday night
Against her will
He’d done things
He’d regretted
But he never did
Those things
They blamed him for
That made his mama’s soul
Sing to the heavens
To praise, to beseech
She knew
God would answer the prayers
Of a righteous woman
A widow
Knocking on the justice’s door
Again and again
Until he saw her heart
So broken by the wrong
Because she knew her son
Knew his heart was good
And knew she had to be strong
Because the ways of justice
Sometimes are tangled
And can take so long
Praise the Lord she said
I have my son back
Thank you God
