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A Sonnet to a Sable Poet’s Pen
(Apropos Disrespected, Suspected, Neglected and Rejected)
I want to write poems
of flowers and birds;
Fragrant poems singing
beautiful words;
Poems praising the ebb and flow
of evening tides
Splashing shores searching
where love abides;
But my pen refuses to ink
such seemingly simplicity.
My pen refuses to ignore
today’s blatant iniquities.
I must write for and to those blinded
by the cataracts of injustice;
Those who suffer deafness from
cancer of abject prejudice—
Immobilized by sclerosis
of uncontrollable apathy:
That coveted placebo that placates
infectious pity.
Yes, I must write wailing words decrying
flowing blood in the street;
Leaving sobbing sad sable mothers
with only dried tears to weep.
This pen of mine must mark our time of vigilance
and what was neglected;
I must write poems of reality—how down the years
our liberty they rejected.
