Black History Month

From the halls of Trevon Martin
to the shores of Rodney King
we will share our nation's blindness
and our lost belief.
We will shore up the broken levies
along the shattered shore
where we'll dream of peace & freedom
and fellowship no more.

From the hidden Tubman railway
To Lincoln's bold brigade
we will tally all our losses
and the errors that we've made.
We will sing beside the fires
as we watch Atlanta burn
and offer solemn prayers
for the way the lesson turns.

Oh, the dreams of Frederick Douglas
and the life of Malcolm X!
We await another prophet:
Who will be murdered next?
And we bathe by water cannon
And we love the happy dogs
And we think we see our freedom
Beyond the tear gas fog.

Take a sip of Big Bill Broonzy
and a draught of Bessie Smith,
the love supreme of Coltrane
and Satchmo's swinging scat;
you can call with your mourning
or your low-down blues
I've got a Robert Johnson heartache
and my harp's just for you.

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Work in Progress.  “Black History Month” is a working title only