Exile
Flowers do not grow on cemented graves,
Only weeds grow in the cracks in summer,
Living in the Nation’s Capital in 78.
Departing at the height of my descent into darkness,
When life had been so violent and bloody,
Going to a place where there are no,
Cemented graves and the sounds of
Gunshots and screaming and suffering.
My soul can rest among the flowers.
Sing in the light of the rising sun.
Living in exile in the mountains of Vermont,
Left all the deaths and pain and suffering and,
Cemented graves in the mountains.
9-27-2020
A shooting Star
A star shooting across the night,
In skies full of stars and the moon,
It was the beginning of a life’s dream.
Away from the prostitutes and drugs,
Away from the daily deaths in summer,
It seemed to have happened in a flesh.
Listening to the peacock’s crow and freshness,
of the nights’ air surrounding me in the summer,
With tears falling to the earth like that star.
9-27-2020
Beginnings of Life
When the rains of violence stop,
And the sounds of death stop.
The standing of the corner is over.
After the inner-city summer’s winds,
Blow its despair into my life is over,
Prayers from the depths of my soul.
A soul is reborn into a life of contentment,
Sitting on the porch as snowflakes fall,
Living in the middle of winter’s crispness.
9-27-2020
Beginnings of Life
When the rains of violence stop,
And the sounds of death stop.
The standing of the corner is over.
After the inner-city summer’s winds,
Blow its despair into my life is over,
Prayers from the depths of my soul.
A soul is reborn into a life of contentment,
Sitting on the porch as snowflakes fall,
Living in the middle of winter’s crispness.
9-27-2020
Voice of Soul
For Richard Wright
The voice of depression and anger,
With all the grief of life being black.
All the years of slavery and beatings.
Lynching of family and friends at night,
Burning crosses and white robes in shadows’,
A chorus of glee as the body swings on a tree.
It has been four hundred years and it continues,
As those in white robes come in the middle of day,
Carry their flags of Nazis crosses chanting
In 2020 there is a return to high tech lynching
10-23-2020
Belief
Do you believe the soul of black men?
Does the color of their skin disturb you?
And their voice of suffering surrounds you?
In the shadows you seek to quiet those voices,
Still those souls will not be quiet in injustice,
Years of waiting to sing for their freedom.
Yearning to find their voice of solitude,
With God while the whip cuts into them,
Whispering for liberation of the body.
Believing in God’s compassion as they cry.
10-23-2020
Crosses of Black men
For Langston Hughes
You have carried your cross made of endless justice,
Carrying your cross as you breathe in innocence of,
Your race as they are put upon a cross of life.
As they carry the burdens of blackness as they cry,
Crying for a life without a whip cutting into them,
While they bleed, they cry for salvation are heard.
10-23-2020
Freedom comes for one
For Mary
It is the blackness of my skin,
Covered in a tide of blood,
It is my black skin falling,
As a storm of hate surrounds me.
As the crosses are burning in the yard.
As the rope swings in the tree waiting,
For me while in my youth of life.
Swinging back and forth waiting for me.
They wait to watch me hanging from a tree,
It is your gentle touch that holds hope for me,
It is your gentle voice singing that I hear,
As I swing from that tree of whiteness.
10-23-2020
A Sea of Hope
Wishing for freedom from the agony,
Hoping for the tears to stop plummeting,
Into the sea of turbulence of agony,
As the waves rush to the shore,
And the tide carry me into the ocean,
With blue twirling clouds watching,
While the angels gather to pray for me.
10-23-2020