Cry Freedom

“Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom over me And before I’d be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.” A movement awakened the nation, peacefully protesting with hymns, joining hands, and uniting with a vision that would lead to a glorious road. Nobody said it would be easy, but they stood together, understanding the shoulders of one man could not carry the entire load. At times, the twinkling of the stars would lose their light, cloaked behind clouds of gray. And it seemed the splendor in the color of the rising sun had gradually gone away. Yet, they would sing… “No more weeping, no more weeping, no more weeping, over me And before I’d be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.” Their demands had been circumvented; some bemoaned their submission that led towards destitution. Trying to maintain a forgiving heart, but would not mind the swiftness of divine retribution. Many of them were brutally beaten to death, others arrested, and confinement felt like being stranded in the desert heat awaiting the Monsoon Rain. Dehydrated from the lack of water, exhausted and wounded, using the cactus’ aloe to alleviate their pain Did this discourage them? No, they continued to sing… “Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom, over me And before I’d be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.” The opportunity to open arms for equality is what they yearned for, only to be disappointed by the illusion of a mirage. Mortified and brokenhearted, “I have a dream…” Dr. King began, refusing to conform to the hatreds facade. When the sun did not comply with setting in the west but mysteriously set in the east They did not grow weary, trusting they were not alone; their faith in God did not diminish but increase. Stronger their voices roared… “There’ll be singing. There’ll be singing; there’ll be singing over me. And before I’d be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.” Our struggle may never be understood; some will say we march without a cause. When starting a revolution, we must educate ourselves, learning the ins and outs of man’s laws. We must elevate one another, for love is the only substance that heals. Be compassionate towards one another, for we do not know how the other may feel. Do not be ashamed of who you are; your uniqueness is your light. The time has come for us to sing together once again; do not be afraid to fight. Remember… “They’ll be glory, they’ll be glory, they’ll be glory over me. And before I’d be a slave, I’ll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.” Note: "Oh, Freedom" is a post-Civil War African-American freedom song. It is often associated with the African American Civil Rights Movement, with Odetta, who recorded it as part of the "Spiritual Trilogy," on her Odetta Sings Ballads and Blues album,[1] and with Joan Baez, who performed the song at the 1963 March on Washington.[2] Baez has since performed the song live numerous times, both during her concerts and at other events. The song was first recorded in 1931 by the E. R. Nance Family as "Sweet Freedom."