772300
8
Whether By The Sun Of Day
Or The Moon Of Night…Justice Waits…
I
In the distance, the fading sun
Bade adieu
And slipped behind the golden horizon;
The moon slowly sneaked
From behind the ivory clouds and
Greeted the ebony night;
The shadows of day now became
Those of the night---flickering
Shadows of the ghost of our children---
Quiet, whispering echoes silent by
Untimely deaths whose spirits
Wander freely to live on---that their names
Like that of Emmett Till’s---be not forgotten.
In the dawning hours following low twelve,
The moon faithfully waits the returning sun;
Albeit this be the nature of things in nature,
We can’t wait for the return of God given freedom;
We can’t wait for the wrinkles of justice to be ironed out.
Indeed, it is not so much that the moon waits the coming of day;
Rather it is the rising sun, in the presence of the moon, that
Breaks the shackles of night; giving freedom, setting a new day afoot.
II
And so it must be with us---strong black hammers---shaping
Our destiny---setting afoot new days and nights of freedom
In the midst of old anvils of injustice and racist creeds---
Still struggle to mold us into powerless black eunuchs we would be
Rather than the renewed black men we will be---infused with a new
Kind of power: fueled by an audacious faith in self and our Creator.
So rise, you mighty black men---renew priorities for the new day coming
Or forever remain stuck in the despair that continues to darken our days and nights.
Arise, you mighty black men---today justice waits to be released from bondage.
