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All too often
common sense seems to be
the most difficult
to achieve and/or perceive.
You can’t chain
and own the past as if slaves;
and how can you make
today be the past of yesterday?
If history could
and would repeat its self,
we the people of African heritage
would be back on top
and the people of faded colour
would be back climbing.
There’s only a little allegory here;
just give it some thought
and give some reflections on time.
What is amazing
is that Ourstory—we Blacks—amazingly
and collectively keloids the past, present
and the future.
Thus, we can say,
although we’re not where we want to be
and not yet where we ought to be,
we surely can thank God that we are not
still where we once were.
We’ve overcome dilemmas
in the past and it’s now apparent
we can surely conquer present
pandemic political oppressive evils
and be well on our way
to ensuring future equanimity.
The time of the past cannot be
the time of now nor of later;
the time is now and now is the time
to take time to assure the future will be
one in which we will all harmoniously live.
Indeed, let us forever be mindful that our
hope of an equitable tomorrow must be realized
today, and—in our present conundrum—we must
again heed the wisdom of the words long ago spoken
by our prophet—MLK—still loudly echoing to us today.
Let you eyes listen: “We may cry out…for time
to pause in…passage, but time is deaf
to every plea and rushes on...We have a choice
today…This may well be[our]last chance
to choose between chaos and community.”
Be ever mindful that over the passing
times, many have given their precious lives
that we may be in today’s blessed position
of casting shared power; thus—in the so soon
future on the horizon—let us be able to celebrate
that in their faithful mission purpose, those sacred
lives were not sacrificed in vain—please God—no!
With awareness of our present-day mission purpose
we know what it is we must do—so— let’s get to it!
Finally, be forever aware that in the affairs
of our sailing times, we cannot allow the tide
of evil to remain in its pandemic flooding; rather,
we must be the pulling force of its inevitable ebbing:
Having inked the votive word, the cruising hand sails on.
