Black is the first nail I ever stepped on;
Black the hand that dried my tears.
Black is the first old man I ever noticed;
Black the burden of his years.
Black is waiting in the darkness;
Black the ground where hoods have lain.
Black is the sorrow-misted story;
Black the brotherhood of pain.
Black is quiet iron door;
Black the path that leads behind.
Black is a detour through the year;
Black the diary of the mind.
Black is Gabriel Prosser’s knuckles;
Black Sojourner’s naked breast.
Black is a schoolgirl’s breathless mother;
Black her child who led the rest.
Black is th
learn moreFrom deep sleep
I sat upright
And clutched his new lapels,
For he was laughing.
Back from the dead
He came, I say,
Laughing
I asked not
“Are you not dead?”
But
“What is it?”
His talcum chin,
And pebbles eyes,
And old string hair
Leaned forward.
He just laughed,
He just laughed
At my tears…
Reference:
James Emanuel
In fragrant Dixie’s arms
Christ came down in flames,
A smoke-smile on his lips
And black of face
Before the furtive, nail pierced can
And up-thrust beam
Broke charcoal thorns
Across his brow.
The gloried ashes rose
And crossed the heart of Him
Evicted from this land,
Un-fested King whose love was fire enough
To forge the ages,
Martyred Lord, his circling men now weaponed
Only in their eyes.
Some muttered aging prophecies,
Denim pockets bulging knuckles.
Wonder, vague as smoke, if Christ had bled before
He really died
Took some, like coughing, by the throat.
Some rooted
