Every Next Day





Was born to be a mule,
got barn weaned in the August hay
Didn’t know ev’ry next day
was gon be like my first Labor Day

My Louisi-Ana, ebony twin fetter friends told me,
I was gon gator cry pray ev’ry next day
That I better bray learn to swallow my pain,
just like my mama did on my birth day

The only promise given to darkie me shy,
‘bout how yoke things gon bigotry be ev’ry next day
I was gon corral cry, neigh cry ... rein cry,
just like I did the first moment of that first teary day

As I grew into a young oxen,
and started a-muzzle thinking on my own
My first daddy tongue lash taught me: Ev’ry next day,
only rebel speak proud when you’re alone

So ev’ry now and then, when I go into busy body town
to pick up some farm supplies
I know I better lower my eyes,
when a cotton-skin pass by    —    Keep my head down!

Or ev’ry next day,
I’m gon feel like it is my last day

I once looked into an old lion’s sad eyes,
and saw his hope had died
That his ev’ry next day,
he a ne’er was gon ev’r feel gazelle alive

And I knew willow then,
turning over the dirt ev’ry next day 
was my only labor pay

Turning over the dirt ev’ry next day
would be my final expense pay

Met me a big belly girl,
pretty as midnight
Said her Massa treated her good,
like she was white

And I knew sorrow straightaway,
that the joy in her ev’ry next day
was gon be short and slim
Like a prickly cotton stem

I secretly read, where the Good Book said:
The color of the Sun
shines the same on ev’ryone ev’ryday

But the pale barrel of a gun, showed me  
that ain’t what the black smoke say
Steel fingers speak with tungsten purity

Weary me believe, ev’ry next day
be like the first exit womb day
Only the pain don’t ev’r pass thru,
the tears don’t ev’r go away

I’ve learned well 
this one inescapable thing,
at the tethered end of
ev’ry next day — 

The sunrise wages saved
of ev’ry next day 
Be anew sunset spirit death
of the born-to-be a slave


11-24-20

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020



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Date: 12/11/2020 12:33:00 PM
Hello Chris Green, I felt the pain of the ox. He learned that we do not know when it is our last day. peace, joy, and love. darlene
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Date: 11/25/2020 5:00:00 AM
I could feel the angst and the deep emotion into this one as your traveled back into time to feel what your ancestors felt.. We do seem to be going in the right direction now, however, there is still room for so much improvement..
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Date: 11/25/2020 4:44:00 AM
Thanks, my PSoup gals and pals for taking the time to read this poem (which is very dear to me.) This poem is really about putting my myself in the shoes of my ancestors. This is my personal insight on what it was like to live a slave life. I know I bring up issues that make some people uncomfortable ... but, it has always been uncomfortable being black in America. Ev'ryone have a blessed holiday. Love and more love always — Romantic Warrior
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Date: 11/24/2020 5:15:00 PM
“Only rebel speak when you are alone” - you had wise parents Freddie!
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Date: 11/24/2020 1:12:00 PM
I fell this is a sad poem very deep in meaning. Life is never easy. ~~
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