Black Poetry : letter to a fugitive sistuh

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by romusthepoet, Mar 8, 2002.

  1. romusthepoet

    romusthepoet Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Nov 21, 2001
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    letter to a fugitive sistuh
    by romus simpson

    i wanted to call you
    but i was dishonest
    so lacking sanctuary
    in the clear river of an infant democracy
    i wrote poems about spain
    clouds drawing dreams
    & the multitude of invitations to cry all morning long
    the high spiderless panes of downtown sky
    moved clouds across morning
    & under the marquee of the theater
    in a wind hinting rain in the eyes
    my muddled reflection released me
    leaving to a vacant soundless late autumn country
    always leaving the ruins of personal apartheid

    i am ok
    if you need to know
    somewhere traveling across your moonlit face
    this astronaut you love glinting in the galaxy
    somewhere where you don’t admit it
    small interstellar fire
    you care love
    i am just sad
    sad as a blue child in recluse in the fog & orchard
    come dawn in the faceless day sigh & exist
    but sadness is no sickness no ripeness or shine
    no moon leaning against the universe
    not naples with beautiful boats in prayer
    it’s just the condition of the world on tuesday

    i loved you
    like finding meaning in kenya
    measuring myself in clay
    then claimed in prayer
    suddenly fluent & citizen in mombasa
    & dar es salaam
    i was
    i rose
    i loved you in a new language
    wandered a ripe continent healing people
    in that energy that revolution
    it was my new skin
    my blackness declared at every border
    my new purpose
    the sermon exclaiming love gave to who would listen
    & i listened love
    new night following me across the mudstone country
    the limpopo steering lumber through night
    moon siren spilled on the river night

    & like an ivory bloom laid in a huge black drifting hand
    the republic that educated me softly at the edge of night
    my new africa with its infant pan faced diplomats
    your love your love making people believe
    their heartfelt constitutions their words
    your small kiss like chiles on my tongue & beard
    & the freedom the triumph we felt
    as we passed singing into tanzania where the people were voting
    at the marrow of africa
    the drone of your kiss in my chest

    this year
    the children are older
    november was especially hard
    because of their faces
    all their faces like drops of oil
    fingertip bright faces
    you would be proud of the students
    we send them
    the starling the children each cool morning

    some mornings i could not see your face
    in my memory & sat looking east
    & was ashamed i panicked
    waiting for you to move from darkness
    to call with your politics
    to form against my ready mouth
    yet with all the windows open no you
    ever ever no you ever no you

    war blooms on the windows
    like when we traveled at the edge of a monsoon
    & caught the fringe rain
    all the african sky behind us suddenly heavy coal
    dark mozambique exhaling & flooding
    threatening the caravan of peace workers
    & the soldiers draped in plastic
    who did everything at gunpoint
    could be brought with american cigarettes
    its like that here love
    in this america i am trying to change
    this arrogant bantu homeland
    this sky i am trying to stay ahead of
    the policemen with guns

    we have missed the islamic sudan
    & the seasons come wandering in somalia
    covered appropriate cultural & lean
    grinning like fruit
    like so many young men there come to learn
    last year we planned to empower women there
    your sisters needed you
    & i was going with you on a slow egyptian freighter
    it was to be our time between continents
    drifting in blue love informally without speeches

    but that was to be last year
    trekking through chad disguised as muslims
    now the students are my africa
    they come each morning in the bloom of their births to learn
    each an infant democracy
    i tell them about you
    this woman who came to me from an international urgency
    they pronounce your name
    they are beautiful errors in the autumn sky
    they makes me laugh
    our little freedom fighters
    i have taught them african freedom songs
    i sing to you on the way home
    though a hemisphere voices a million concerns between us
    countless men who can toil no further
    each day a machine aches to a stop & a worker changes his mind
    there will be freedom coming here too
    our work will begin in watts
    my fugitive
    my secret flower
    my love
  2. Amun-Ra

    Amun-Ra Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Feb 15, 2001
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    Sales Management

    Romus--Been awhile since I read you on the page, bu that is my own fault--very nice piece and well worth the read--Amun-Ra

  3. N2urSoul

    N2urSoul Well-Known Member MEMBER

    Mar 17, 2001
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    Director, Community Employment Strategies
    Minneapolis, MN
    Hey Rome...... great read!! :)