the lonely
Continue
To put the mantel of your protection
Around the bodies of
The young and defenseless
Continue
To take the hand of the despised
And diseased and walk proudly with them
In the high street
Some might see you and
Be encouraged to do likewise
Continue
To plant a public kiss of concern
On the cheek of the sick
And the aged and infirm
And count that as a
Natural action to be expected
Continue
To let gratitude be the pillow
Upon which you kneel to
Say your nightly prayer
And let faith be the bridge
You build to overcome evil
And welcome good
Continue
To ignore no vision
Which comes to enlarge your range
And increase your spirit
Continue
To dare to love deeply
And risk everything
For the good thing
Continue
To float
Happily in the sea of infinite substance
Which set aside riches for you
Before you had a name
Continue
And by doing so
You and your work
Will be able to continue
Eternally
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
SONS AND
DAUGHTERS
WRITTEN FOR THE
CHILDREN’S DEFENSE FUND
If my luck is bad
And his aim is straight
I will leave my life
On the killing field
You can see me die
On the nightly news
As you settle down
To your evening meal.
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
In the city streets
Where the neon lights
Turn my skin from black
To electric blue
My hope soaks red
On the gray pavement
And my dreams die hard
For my life is through.
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
In the little towns
Of this mighty land
Where you close your eyes
To my crying need
I strike out wild
And my brother falls
Turn on your news
You can watch us bleed.
In morgues I’m known
By a numbered tag
In clinics and jails
And junkyards too
You deny my kin
Though I bear your name
For I am a part
Of mankind too.
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
Turn your face to me
Please
Let your eyes seek my eyes
Lay your hand upon my arm
Touch me. I am real as flesh
And solid as bone.
I am no metaphor
I am no symbol
I am not a nightmare
To vanish with the dawn
I am lasting as hunger
And certain as midnight.
I claim that no council nor committee
Can contain me
Nor fashion me to its whim.
You, come here, hunch with me in this dingy doorway,
Face with me the twisted mouth threat
Of one more desperate
And better armed than I.
Join me again at today’s dime store counter
Where the word to me
Is still no.
Let us go, your shoulder,
Against my shoulder,
To the new picket line
Where my color is still a signal
For brutes to spew their bile
Like spit in my eye.
You, only you, who have made me
Who share this tender taunting history with me
My fathers and mothers
Only you can save me
Only you can order the tides,
That rush my heart, to cease
Stop expanding my veins
Into red riverlets.
Come, you my relative
Walk the forest floor with me
Where rampaging animals lurk,
Lusting for my future
Only if your side is by my side
Only if your side is by my side
Will I survive.
But you’ll probably turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
WHEN GREAT
TREES FALL
Dedicated to Bernice Johnson Reagon
of Sweet Honey in the Rock
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe briefly.
our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by
Continue
To put the mantel of your protection
Around the bodies of
The young and defenseless
Continue
To take the hand of the despised
And diseased and walk proudly with them
In the high street
Some might see you and
Be encouraged to do likewise
Continue
To plant a public kiss of concern
On the cheek of the sick
And the aged and infirm
And count that as a
Natural action to be expected
Continue
To let gratitude be the pillow
Upon which you kneel to
Say your nightly prayer
And let faith be the bridge
You build to overcome evil
And welcome good
Continue
To ignore no vision
Which comes to enlarge your range
And increase your spirit
Continue
To dare to love deeply
And risk everything
For the good thing
Continue
To float
Happily in the sea of infinite substance
Which set aside riches for you
Before you had a name
Continue
And by doing so
You and your work
Will be able to continue
Eternally
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
SONS AND
DAUGHTERS
WRITTEN FOR THE
CHILDREN’S DEFENSE FUND
If my luck is bad
And his aim is straight
I will leave my life
On the killing field
You can see me die
On the nightly news
As you settle down
To your evening meal.
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
In the city streets
Where the neon lights
Turn my skin from black
To electric blue
My hope soaks red
On the gray pavement
And my dreams die hard
For my life is through.
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
In the little towns
Of this mighty land
Where you close your eyes
To my crying need
I strike out wild
And my brother falls
Turn on your news
You can watch us bleed.
In morgues I’m known
By a numbered tag
In clinics and jails
And junkyards too
You deny my kin
Though I bear your name
For I am a part
Of mankind too.
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
Turn your face to me
Please
Let your eyes seek my eyes
Lay your hand upon my arm
Touch me. I am real as flesh
And solid as bone.
I am no metaphor
I am no symbol
I am not a nightmare
To vanish with the dawn
I am lasting as hunger
And certain as midnight.
I claim that no council nor committee
Can contain me
Nor fashion me to its whim.
You, come here, hunch with me in this dingy doorway,
Face with me the twisted mouth threat
Of one more desperate
And better armed than I.
Join me again at today’s dime store counter
Where the word to me
Is still no.
Let us go, your shoulder,
Against my shoulder,
To the new picket line
Where my color is still a signal
For brutes to spew their bile
Like spit in my eye.
You, only you, who have made me
Who share this tender taunting history with me
My fathers and mothers
Only you can save me
Only you can order the tides,
That rush my heart, to cease
Stop expanding my veins
Into red riverlets.
Come, you my relative
Walk the forest floor with me
Where rampaging animals lurk,
Lusting for my future
Only if your side is by my side
Only if your side is by my side
Will I survive.
But you’ll probably turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
WHEN GREAT
TREES FALL
Dedicated to Bernice Johnson Reagon
of Sweet Honey in the Rock
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe briefly.
our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by
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