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Poem

I do not know if it is Bra Man
Or Black Lightening
Missing from the curriculum 
Or it is that we do not teach about ourselves
Beyond the superficiality of their apologetics
Twisting identities out of shape,
But I cannot find you in dream nor landscape
And we are so young.

We are too young to forget so many things new already
Unless we prioritize
For when the wound is heal the scab must go
And I must see my flesh beautiful with hair again
I must see you growing in our rain.
For you were a tree
That did not just take root and leach us dry
You returned mulch again and again
And gave this culture
The most denied part of it
Exposure to me look me in the eyes
And left me owning with mild surprise.

Brother man, let me tell you
That was black lightning in the heart
White darkness fled.

               ii
He too knew it before
What I tell you
This is language you may dance
You may write and carve
But it is not to talk
For talking sake.
This language is the repository of culture ...
He went inside searching bare cupboards
And came out laughing with surfeit

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