Black Poetry : The River Rises


Well-Known Member
Jan 30, 2001
The mighty Mississippi roars
Spirits of my people gather on the banks
With each rising wave
Excitement in the spirits soar

They sit and wonder
Have the chains rusted away?
Has rotted flesh and bone slipped through the shackles?
Will sons of Kings float to the top?
The spirits watch
As the river rises

Not so many years ago
Jim Crow fished this river so wide
Superiority the Klansmen's catch
Fishing with the smiles of hate
Black men cruelly used as bait
The river rises
The spirits wait

Mark Twain be damned
There is no mystery to the Mighty Mississippi
The story of this river is told through the tears of widows
Through the midnight cries of fatherless sons and daughters
The river is torturously dark
The reason known by all
As the river rises
Spirits of my people call

(c) BE,2000
they called out for change...

in the attitude of their forechildren

the spirits of my people cried out
fallen shackles in the deep rang out
and TRUTH rose the top

they sat on the bank
of the river of life


they asked
of a people resembling them
only in their shades of darkness


they cried
as they watched from the bank
...wondering what has become of us


why do you do the things you do
why do you prey on each other
we died for you
why do you destroy your families
and say "i'm da bomb"
remember your history
do you know where you came from

the swell of the river continued
but sorrow of the spirits grew
so they dipped back into the river
'cause they didn't like what we do.



sorry for dampening the spirit of the flow.



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