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.