December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

US by Julius Lester

For so long
We looked into mirrors and hated what we saw
For so long
We did not dance to the rhythms of our Gods but writhed on the cross with christ, drank his blood and were thankful.
For so long
We proclaimed with pride “Je suis fancais”
Our black skins glistening and white teeth shinning.
For so long hot combs burned our hair and our breasts were cinched and hidden from sight.
For so long we knew not ourselves or each other
For so long
We saluted a flag not our own
For so long
We sang My Country ‘Tis of Thee
For so long
We died in wars not our own.

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

Black is what the prisons are, The stagnant vortex of the hours Swept into totality, Creeping in the perjured heart, Bitter in the vulgar rhyme, Bitter on the walls; Black is where the devils... THE AFRICAN AFFAIR by Bruce M. Wright.
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