—for 6th & 7th generashun comradz
they be so much older now
than ever they were az littlewunz
hearing voicez speak to them frum a deepinside
they knew but knew not how to say.
they
were the quiet wunz
who knew listening
& sensed enuf
to notspeak
in the atlanticz bosom, who heard the roar uv wave & call uv
gull
who saw sea & so much more hiz neighborz couldnot see
to dance in historyz embrace braced against
greatloss & knowledge uv thesilence
walking unseen & atwun
in sheltering wood.
& thewun they cast lotz for
becum ward uv the empire state
the hardheaded blakkwun who saw death
yung, tasted itz vintage fruit before a son could rise,
dawn uv hiz own sonz journey thru lite
to live mortally wounded in a fire
uv drinking change.
a named self
a claimed identity
a soul released to conshusnesss,
the unforgiving consequence.
thesewunz cumnow, movement
a halfcenturyz distance weighing. cumnow
to tell their storyz, sing their classic resistance songz.
articulate now painz manifest, they as art stretched on canvaz,
they as living witness called to be thecall to elder.
their testimony sought in circlez uv hi/greed
at theze avarice councilz, at the altar
uv the childrenz quest resonating
in their breast.
the calling:
even when spoken to by the many
who couldnot see this few — be/cauz they be few,
& the scarcity uv their sound, & intensity uv their character
rendered them invisible.
but they had wordz, tho only for the few who saw
their wide/eyed listening before they were taught
to hear their way away from home,
at church
or to speak at school.
these ancient souljahz cumbak to carry forward
earth lessonz they had earned to learn thru firez uv trial,
& thedeath uv self,
& thebelief/taught kindred
not understanding, who never learned
to live within their owned
balance.
& so, these ancient marinerz
gone off to see, what seaz otherz only believed
these olewunz with heavyskin, whose thotz require no thinking:
the one hiding out in southside chicago angular wood,
a dreamer uv crossing trakkz, who catalogued
the neighborhoodz sound uv music.
or the adopted son, the mischief/making inviziblwun,
run off to boxcar kid, and hobo before puberty; rescued by hiz blakkangel
who forgave & gave direction home — you are not their say, say
theorisha, but the spokenword that spitz & spiritz you.
or thewun raized up on the jerseyside uv themity river
in the atlanticz bosom, who heard the roar uv wave & call uv gull
who saw sea & so much more hiz neighborz couldnot see
to dance in historyz embrace braced against
greatloss & knowledge uv thesilence
walking unseen & atwun
in sheltering wood.
& thewun they cast lotz for
becum ward uv the empire state
the hardheaded blakkwun who saw death
yung, tasted itz vintage fruit before a son could rise,
dawn uv hiz own sonz journey thru lite
to live mortally wounded in a fire
uv drinking change.
a named self
a claimed identity
a soul released to conshusnesss,
the unforgiving consequence.
thesewunz cumnow, movement
a halfcenturyz distance weighing. cumnow
to tell their storyz, sing their classic resistance songz.
articulate now painz manifest, they as art stretched on canvaz,
they as living witness called to be thecall to elder.
their testimony sought in circlez uv hi/greed
at theze avarice councilz, at the altar
uv the childrenz quest resonating
in their breast.
the calling:
youwun.
ar-tic-u-late . . .
you, theall, in all, unseen
be in all our relationz.
you be so much yunger now
been older than that then
