MY Old Kentucky Home

I will burn down the majestic in these walls
While the anger and despair brings down the sanity
rooted in my righteousness,
in My Old Kentucky Home.

This safe haven brings out desperate tears of loneliness
Lying here—exasperated from the turmoil
of the constant struggle to survive.
I’m drowning in each forbidden sin
In My Old Kentucky Home.

I pray on my knees that are red and sore from groveling;
I raise my sweaty hands up to touch the glory of God.
I shout, “Lord, save me in this land of mine, where the tobacco fields are enormous,
and the children roam ‘round the cow fields,”
In My Old Kentucky Home.

Let Kentucky rain on me its sympathies
where the sun rises and sets.
The ancient bells still ring every sunrise
In My Old Kentucky Home.

I rest in my old rocking chair that waivers back and forth, on my wide porch.
The appearance of friendly neighbors:  they wave their hands
with the self-illuminating greeting, “Hello, my fellow countrymen.”
In My Old Kentucky Home.

“My fellow countrymen” will not cut rough-edge hair,
Nor change the color of my skin.
In My Old Kentucky Home.
 

Petrina
Warren Central High School

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