Over the Middle Passage of Time

Over the Middle Passage of Time (Apropos of Trials and Triumphs) In the crypt of the ocean’s deep Lay ivory bones Of screaming ebony souls Drowned in due seasoned journeys Across middle passage sojourns Of pilgrim’s progress Yoking labor in the wrinkles of the earth From the fresh dawn to the tired dust thereof: Nothing fertilizes like wet sweat and dried blood. When the instructive tongues of ancestors Tap at the door of attentive ears Spirits scale skyscraper yearnings of home Parachuting shackles of mind and body Drifting in earthy fields of rusty ways; No, the last supper will not be here. The lit torch illuminates the new summons; The passage of time forgives but never forgets; The Supreme Master of the Universe spills His cup Into the Saucer of which we now sip: Because of His amazing grace, we shall not Sup the tainted bastard blue blood of disgrace.