Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Poetry: A Heritage Never To Be Forgot from "Carry Me Home: Poetry Inspired by the African-American Experience"


With this pen, I write.

With this mind, I dream.

Now, I can do this

With more than a feeling,

More than a sense

Of optimism.

This is a gift.

Presented in the past

By a host of enlightened voices

Who recorded the necessary notes

And told the tales everyone needed to hear.

They bought what time they had

To kill the giants.

They sold the forgotten parts

Of the night

To give the world

A taste of strong medicine.

Letters from Wright.

Metaphors from Hughes.

History from Haley.

Songs from Angelou.

It cannot be ignored.

Stronger than the weight of segregation.

Mightier than a sword.

Piercing all sides.

Creativity within

That ushered forth page after page.

Read between the lines,

Collect them into a volume.

I Hear the cry of the faithful departed.

There are some who would try

And put a lid on a treasure chest.

It's so easy to let it fall.

And me,

I am a part of it all.

From the fullness thereof

To the empty cup.

A heritage never too late to reflect.

(I am here).

A heritage never to be forgot.

(We are here).

Alive but many miles behind.


©2000 Torrence King. All Rights Reserved. From the poetry-art collection “Carry Me Home: Poetry Inspired By The African-American Experience”

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