by Kimberly McCrae



  SPEAK

  We've not always walked clandestinely in shadows

  nor tiptoed in the blinding light of deceit

  We've not garnished our plate with the withered leaves of parsley grown in ground

  made fertile by scattering our precious seed

  We have spoken loudly in rooms wallpapered with color-coded ignorance

  and danced in wintry streams purified by our blood

  This be a call, a summoning of sensibility

  laying aside parchment paper and alphabetical notation

  BA, MD, PhD, MFA, M.Div, BS....bs

  that somehow has come to hold more merit than the divinity our story

  to whom have we made sacrifice upon the altars of our loyalty

  diminishing our ancestry to stories told for sport

  our legacy sold for a mere taste of porridge

  footprints painted over and then tarred for smoother passage

  do not be deceived,

  there is no currency of exchange

  that can equate to the treasure

  drowned in the blue of the Atlantic Ocean's tears

  our story is as gritty as the sands that kissed our skin

  as fiery as the lashes that etched eternity into our minds

  more than the cacophony of contusions

  that adorned skin bronzed and baked in ovens lined with

  cotton,

  corn,

  tobacco

  the yeast has been forgotten in the translation of our legacy

  for we have forgotten to rise

  countless masses left behind

  rocked to eternal sleep on the ebb and flow of Ocean waves

  eulogized by the cries of another stolen, another sold

  another measured by their weight in gold

  another beaten, another raped,

  another lynched, another shaped

  into the image of unfamiliar tongues and the fear of no escape

  laying in wait behind doors of no return

  dank stenches of death as their early morning song

  for at least this sensory realization meant they were still alive

  birthing babies that would never suck from their own mother's breasts

  it's not pretty here

  because it wasn't pretty there

  but they did not endure for us to become demure

  and lest history repeat itself...Amadou Diallo

  and lest history repeat itself...Sean Bell

  and lest history repeat itself...Emmett Till, The Scott Sisters, 3, a church 
  in Alabama, 5, Jenna Six

  and lest history repeat itself...Mumia Abu Jamal

  and lest history repeat itself...Apartheid in Arizona

  and lest history repeat itself

  we must muster up the courage

  to speak


  Poem posted in this space February 18, 2011

  To contact Kimberly McCrae send an email to:  redefining_freedom@yahoo.com 
  or visit her at facebook.com/people/Kimberly-Redefining-Freedom-McCrae/654961696