THE STORY

I woke up victimized
Struggling like dawn
Wearing lips of stories
Lips of theories from many diaries worth black cowries.

I have walked miles,
Walking the Alguhas,
Walking the canary
and pausing to say Christ!
Hear my cries.
I have traveled long working the loom,
Bending canes and squeezing canes to tear my thirst.
I have walked long spreading the theory
Not just poetic chants.
The theory is walking the poets words and daily teachings.
Emerging from white waters and living in blackness.
I have journeyed long,
Laying seeds to rest
and thinking nothing less.
This theory is tedious.
This story,
My story,
Our story.
Is the talking hands and listening eyes.
The mind finds a peaceful place here.
Running through highway electric lines too low.
And every move pressed in dew proven
Rebellion is not inciting commotions through dead elegies
Rebellion is surging from white cultures
And soaring placards of this story.
Black culture!