VIII.
By Fermina Ponce
The blacks of my land hurt from oblivion,
my ancestors reel under their ebony headstones.
The elders and the children seem to vanish in a needless death,
wide hips are said to have tired of birthing smiles
and there is no respite in pearl grins.
The sand has become murky,
there are no flowers or fish that can flap together,
nor undercurrents,
only the cracks in life’s senseless walks.
How much this notion of peace hurts!
Beauty Beguiled Me
By Quentin Johnson
Beauty beguiled me,
Twas fresh and anew
Black Star of life shone with brightest hue.
In dark onyx eyes, a love came afire,
Black Star of love burn with desire.
Her essence bound me in Sheba’s grace,
Black Star hold me in your embrace.
In communion she joins with innocence so white,
Black Star of passion be mine tonight!
Ebony Gold, please shine on my life!
Thinking About James Baldwin
By Karen Fullett-Christensen
I’m thinking about James Baldwin now:
what he taught us about self-hate, and self-love
how we run from our fears
jump off bridges,
toast oblivion
hide from the Devil within ourselves
strike our breasts in desperate atonement
for the sins of those whose feet on our necks
makes the torturer bloody and crushes his heart
Can our hearts change,
Can we be the people
God needs us to be?
One More
By Anthony Stanford
One more day
Another unfairly treated
Straight up struggle
One more slight
Added to the total
Four century-old tally
One more reason
Another lame excuse
Followed by delay
One more person
Added to the list
Say her name
One more future
Inexplicably stunted
Another to nurture
One more promise
Pie in the sky
Bitter bite taken
One more apology
Not many options
Swallow hard accept
One more day
In a leap year
No time to waste