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Some died in the heartless hands of tribal raids.
Some died fighting to save their sons from the trade.
Some died as captives, betrayed by their own kind.
Some died shackled, trudging to the coastal line.
Some died in the holding pens awaiting ships.
Some died in the long months of brutal boat trips.
Some died when they broke free and jumped overboard.
Some died on daunting shores waiting to be sold.
Some died of illnesses of captivity.
Some died fleeing, chose death over slavery.

The millions of shoulders on which you stand now
require your respect and attention, somehow.
Because everything you do and what you say
reflect on the freedom of proud yesterdays.
Freedom's not free; it demands our sacrifice.
(Think of Dr. King, most of all think of Christ!)
Some dishonor its price, like it's just a whim,
but use your influence where the vision's dim.
Be proud! Respect yourself and others, with zest.
There is no one like you when you're at your best!

Psalm 139:14 [KJV]
I will praise Thee; for I am fearfully
and wonderfully made: Marvelous are
Thy works; And that my soul knoweth
right well.

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