This poem is a response to the fatal and tragic circumstances surrounding the malicious murders of several Black males in the summer of 2014 (and prior). It is eulogy to innocence loss, premature departures, and the disappearance of hope, which seems suddenly obscured by a dark veil of nihilism blanketing this “time past race.”
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The night was long—
Black dreams were missing like Black bodies buried beneath mahogany mud— stretched from Mississippi to Mandingo sands.
Dark souls descended upon hot streets blazoned by ghetto flames,
Burning upon the breast of fiery dark places,
And streams of red blood crept six feet beneath the hard surface of Ghetto Earth.
The night that challenges the light of the Sun,
the darkness of the night stalked the Son—
At once closing his eyes.
He is now blind to his Blackness,
While hues of crimson Blues encroach upon his dark skin.
The night, the shadow of his Blackness, appears so with emptiness—
Eclipsed stars, the fallen dreams in his skies,
Give way to a broken moon—which is his crescent heart.
Then, I felt his mother’s tears, drenched upon Black garments that draped her supple, sable lap.
Prevailing in audacious echoes were sorrow songs,which provoked shrieks of wild thunder beneath the Black veil that hid her eyes.
We forgot about her because she was hidden behind the shade of our darkness.
She is our tomorrow—the sparrow and her song
which bear the light of morning, piercing the darkness of today
like the full moon and moonlight that leads to a new day.
Weeping, though it endures for a night,
Joy sits at the edge of dawn—
A new day forthcoming, which says to us . . .
The Son will arise
—By David E. Kirkland
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- Please check out the following links for more information about the murders of unarmed Black males in the summer of 2014 and the chronic, historic violence aimed at them in recent years: