To Oversleeping Souls...

My Lord, what a morning!

Wake up children!

Let us be not dismayed—Let

not our souls be defiled—hanging

down like branches of willow trees.

 

Wake up children!

Hear the hollering thunder

of the ancestors—echoing;

dance to the staccato rhythmic

rumbling of the trumpeting

of sable poetic spirits here below.

 

Indeed we are of two worlds—

Indigenous and kidnapped; yet

we need and must not be schizophrenic

in our oneness of purpose:  liberation.

 

Let us place our terra-cotta burdens

on the altar of the healing Sun

that their memories remain

as baked manna energizing our being.

 

The new day has already dawned;

falling stars streak slowly out—Leaving

black holes of nothingness—cosmic death

devouring our Earth bound sable starlets.

 

My Lord what a morning!

Wake up children!

Cease your weeping and wailing.

Dress yourselves in clothes of faith.

Put on and tie your shoes of determination.

There’s a great camp meeting in the making

and you better be ready—the train is a’coming!

 

P.S.  “You don’t need no ticket; you jus git on board…”