POEM OF THE WEEK - It's Time to Release Me and Let Me Go

• POEM OF THE WEEK  -It's Time to Release Me and Let Me Go

Shackle my hands. Shackle my feet.

Take away my food so that I have nothing to eat.

Put a bullet through my heart and cause it not to beat.

Pluck out my eyes and make me blind!

Put a yoke upon me like an ox on a farm and make me grind.

You can shackle my body but you can never shackle my mind.

Dethrone me and take away my kingdom.

Deprive me of my rights and freedom.

Confine me to your prison and serfdom.

But you can't take away my God-given wisdom.

Take away my house! Take away my lan'.

Bleach out my black African tan.

But you can't take away God's purpose and plan.

I shall soar like an eagle. I refuse to remain in your little pan!

Change my nationality!

Take away my identity.

But you can't take away my dignity.

Go ahead and inflict your pain.

Kick me. Box me. Beat out my brain!

My spirit is indomitable. It cannot be bound by a chain.

God made me to soar. God made me to fly.

I have no limit. Not even the sky.

Until God is ready to take my life, I cannot die.

I've fought many battles. I have the scars to show.

There's one thing I want to know.

Who is my friend? Who is my foe?

It's time to release me and let me go!

- Anthony E. Morgan

• Innocence

Stop, Stop, Stop

I tell you to stop, but yet you continue,

I cry, I moan, but yet you continue,

Against my will he enters in,

I yell, I cry, but yet he continues,

Hoping, praying, someone would hear my cry,

So this pain I'm feeling,

Would soon come to an end,

I struggle, I fight, but it makes no sense,

He continues to enter and take what's left of my innocence,

No longer did I have the strength to fight,

No longer did I have the strength to plead.

Finally its over, this torturous sin,

This six foot dark skin entered in,

His touch felt so cruel,

I felt disastrous from within,

As I lay there, I wondered,

How could this be?

My guide, my protector,

My father took my innocence from me.

- Diana M. Williams

• The Middle Passage Revisited

Paint a strong black man eyes cast to the skies

Shackles of the Middle Passage he's buried deep

On the plantations from freedom to slavery's rage

A shining symbol of the dangerous waters in a cage

A proud man defiant of today's new watery grave

Centuries pass to woe the chain and the whip

Bear pain no shame or indignity to escape

He hears the shrill call of a new baby at birth

To post a hollow claim on a piece of God's earth

A child born free held slave to a master's will

Son, the foundation of the human race

Planted deep in your breast a heritage rich

Hear the distant drums to mark the game

And the sweet sound of a familiar name

Dream! A dying father whispers in his ear

The spirit stirs in a son's robust breast

Stouter than guilt's effort to mollify the pain

Shuns the honors heaped to erase the shame

Ends the search in grave yards for his name

Behold a smiling father filled with pride

The battles won his weary sons tire of the war

So keep the fortunes of our father's sweat

The lynching rope and stool where he stood

Keep the sheets stained by our sister's blood

And the portrait of her son mounted on a mule

Keep the whips and the mountain of tears

Take back the trinkets to mock our father's fears

We've tamed the rooster with blood on its beak

For it urges the dumb about this travesty to speak

Waking effigies in history books to down their spears

Keep the reparation for we've reclaimed our pride

Stay the repatriation well we've earned our keep

Our father's dying dream captured in the light

His tarnished dignity we have burnished bright

"Born a lord and no longer struggling to be a slave"

- Lloyd R. Moore

• All These Months

Me say mi deh pan a talk to dis bwoy,

An a talk to dis bwoy,

An a talk to dis bwoy innuh

From January, now a February,

An him nah hear mi all now.

Likkle bwoy mi say march yuh likkle self in dis room

Wait deh likkle bit April mek mi hear dis lady pon me cell phone

Ahhhm hello, oh ok sure.

"May I have the information for June's new budget please?"

Lord me say she talk nice eeeh.

July come we might grant her promotion

She always make nuff money fi d company.

Yes, now back to dis bwoy,

Cause me know mi ago bus him shut

Unnuh mek mi tek off da tight boot yah,

Before mi circulation cut!

Likkle bwoy mek mi ask yuh a question,

A Fort Augusta yuh want mi reach?

Come September morning mi affi mek sure yuh innuh brand new khaki

Brand new bag pon back

and how much thousand fi school fee

An every morning yuh ago trech out yuh hand,

Mommy mi can get mi lunch money?

If I eva gi kick yuh yuh si likkle bwoy

Yuh feel like a October wi reach

Dem say fire deh a mus mus tail

An him tink saay cool breeze

Last November when me did a pay fi yuh sister CXC

Mi mek sure tell her straight

Say dis a mi December partner money

So mi av high expectations from she.

Me say dis a d last time me talk to yuh innuh bwoy

Mek sure say yuh hear mi good

If mi eva ketch yuh back inna bad company

A hell and powder house wid you an mi broad board.

Mek dis be d last time mi talk to yuh,

Me did mek meself clear or wat?

Now go bathe and scour di bathroom

And try nuh badda gi mi nuh tuff chat!

- Simone P. Graham

• Love You Anyway (dedicated to Byron)

You can be complicated at times, but I love you anyway.

Even when you're mad at me, I love you anyway.

Through the good and bad times, I love you anyway.

No matter the obstacles that may travel down our path, I will love you anyway

- T.D.W

• Dedicated to Byron

He is my other half, without him I feel incomplete.

He puts the sunshine and warmth in my life;

Without him my days would be cold and lonely.

He is the reason behind my smile.

He is the hammer to my nail; the boat to my sail.

Whenever I see him I cant help but smile; this man is my heartbeat and my lifeline.

- T.D.W

• Man on fire

My lady, let all envious stars in endless skies

Gather eager to reflect your essence

In shame, would each bow before your eyes

Humbly dulled by your presence

Bring precious jewels from the wise king's mind

Diamonds, rubies, every song

Let him judge and he will find

Seven hundred less than one

But alas, good lady, you mock me still

And I ablaze with desire

Will writhe and burn until

My bones lay ash upon the pyre

Then scattered to the winds for all time

Will I mourn a love never mine

For Nadine

- John Donn