Moonlight whispers of war.
Slashed backs sheath plans of ambush
leaves drop on secret strategy covered by bamboo and courage.
The brothers have assembled.
Dawn will roar fire and spear
of knives and grass
blades drunk with anger and dew.
Gunpowder clouds great house
floods fields with screams that do not see skin.
Justice fights
but Hope plants language under tongue
adópé, nyame, obia
jukka, dokono, mbakára
Hope carves name into memory
Hope harvests beauty from cane-row
bantu knots and dreadlocks.
Hope sews calico over curved hips
and anoints curls and coils with castor oil.
Massa can see torches burn
but him cyaa see roots grow
cyaa see riverwater flow from belly bottom
cyaa see mountains kiss sky til dem turn blue
bloom
Jablum.
Steam escape coffee estate
faster than Quackie run lef him shirt.
Massa hear when chain clank
but cyaa hear records break
cyaa hear wi turn metal to medal
how wi change auction block to Olympic stock
when neck hang low with shackles
but rise with ribbon and gold.
Massa mek whip fling
but lip sing.
Sting.
Sumfest.
Sunsplash.
Lyrics stretch history over tenterhooks
taught tender books
from wombs awakened from silence.
Massa mek blood flow from brown skin into brown earth
but red dirt creates wealth that does not summon bones
factory to foil
seeds to soil
trees that stand taller than man
the way time longer than rope.
Hope cultivate
irrigate
pollinate
marinate.
Hope gardens.
Hope sings one last Sankey that calls all of us home.