OF ALLEGORICAL ECHOERS

CATEGORY

(Apropos of Black Poetic Griots)

We may not be deemed apostolic recorders

But we poets, guided with divine wisdom, are

The lay scribes thereof in the chronicling of

Our life’s sojourn in the shadowing times

we spend here on this parcel of what is

An example of planetary creation;

And we Poet-Griots who are of the hue of what was

Before it was declared, “…Let there be light…” are

Bound by sacred conscience to ensure that there

Be no doubt, shadowing, or omission of the

Identity and reality of whose, who, or what

Is rhythmically, metaphorically, and allegorically

Scribed and mirrored in the reality we artfully canvas.

Indeed, in our varied Griot-poetic renderings,

We are sacredly bound to ensure that the clipped links

In chained psalms of ourstory are reinserted and paralleled

Equally with those which are of history; indeed we are sacredly

And spiritually impregnated to give birth to the tell-trail truth of the rape

Of the womb of our Genesis and the abduction of its Middle Passage

Children and their trials and tribulations which led to our Exodus

From the shadowed valley of death of institutionalized slavery:-

Yes, we must score the melodic word symphonies of ourstory’s

Modern-day biblical-like experiences of fiery furnaces, lion den

Encounters, ladder Climbing Challenges, Babylonian times, Noah-like

Sailing and moorings, and bush burnings. Indeed, for the sake of modern-

Day generations of parents and their children, we must melodiously—with

African-base rhythmic beats raise staccato awareness of our sacred African

Kingdoms and Empires that gave rise to great civilizations; and in doing so,

we must nobly unveil the sacred presence and truth of our African royalty.

Indeed, we Poet-Griots must be lay apostolic scribes of easy past

And present messaging; unveiling their divine wisdom, guidance,

And spiritual inspirations enabling us to conjure up biblical hope

And faith rooted in our womb identity of a culture that cannot

Be denied its role in the chronicling of humankind’s sojourn;

Taking our clue from Diakhate, we must not be welled into

being nostalgic with the past but with the winding-up

Of the bucket of ourstorical perspective; leaving the

So-called exotic to the thrashers—seeking relief:-

Therefore, stomping cautiously along the erratic cadences

Of slave-based racism and its quarter note overtones, let us

Groove from one oppressive barred beat to another; scoring

Our freedom’s sojourn filled with negative rest stops designed

To decrescendo wailing staccato rhythmic screams of jazz-blues

And hip-hop loud echoed notes with defiant metered sound.

Bypassing silent apathetic rest stops with the crescendo of

Rumbling faith and the audacious melody of hope, let renewed

Blooming sounds of liberation—voided of waning half note—burst 

Into resounding whole notes of modulated determination of a never

Ending symphony of emancipation conducted by the Cosmic Director

 Demanding repeated melodic notes of ultrasonic pulsing echoers heard

Throughout the worldly concert hall built upon life’s foundation of liberty.