“BLACK FLAG IN THE SALT”

Lay down the salt. Light the black wick.

Name the sons who marched in chains and came back crowned.

Fifty-Fourth, we call you.

If my mouth is a drum, beat through me.

If my throat is a blade, cut the veil.

I taste the iron of the ocean air,

knees in the sand where the cannon flared.

I draw a circle, ash and bone—

“Come if you’re willing, you’re not alone.”

They said you were shadows, said you’d break—

but shadows learn how light gets made.

I’m just a singer, shaking, scared—

say your names, and I’m prepared.

Hear the boots in the tide, hear the roll of the snare,

black flag in the salt, and the blood in the prayer.

We rise—out of the smoke, out of the grave,

we rise—storm in our chest, nothing to save.

We rise—sand in our teeth, fire in our lungs,

We rise—Fort Wagner, hear our tongues.

(We are the drum. We are the drum.)

Buttons like stars on a Union night,

Shaw at the front with a jaw set right.

“Forward!”—hell answered with a cannon’s grin,

we climbed that wall just to break it in.

Muskets sang; the sky turned red,

some said “fall back,” but we ran ahead.

If courage is a crime, then chain me twice—

we paid in flesh the patriot’s price.

Hear the fuse in the dark, hear the vows that we swore,

black flag in the salt, we were made for this war.

We rise—out of the smoke, out of the grave,

we rise—storm in our chest, nothing to save.

We rise—sand in our teeth, fire in our lungs,

We rise—Fort Wagner, hear our tongues.

(We are the drum. We are the drum.)

I am the wall—scarred, stubborn, and stunned.

I drank your screams, your prayers, your blood.

I keep your prints in my shattered stone,

you never left—you made me home.

And the tide brings roses made of rust,

and the gulls write names in holy dust.

All who pass will know this ground—

the dead still sing; that’s the sound.

CALL: Who bleeds and doesn’t beg?

RESPONSE (crowd/choir): We do.

CALL: Who fought when they said “know your place”?

RESPONSE: We blew through.

CALL: Who took the sky and made it shake?

RESPONSE: We did.

CALL: Who owned their fear and still advanced?

RESPONSE: We lived.

Tie my hands with the old injustice—

I’ll rip that sh*t like it’s paper thin.

Bury me “wrong” with my brothers in darkness—

we’ll torch your goddamn night from within.

You wanted silence? Hear this choir.

You built a wall? We are the fire.

Say my worth was small? Count my dead.

Now count the miles our courage spread.