I hope its not an awkward time to talk but I want to say
thanks for the wake up call last Saturday afternoon. I had
not expected to hear from You so soon but I need to tell You,
up front, I always wanted You to get in touch, but not yet.
Let me also put on the table that
should I fall asleep with
Let me also put on the table that should I fall asleep with
You, forgive me in advance for not being so attentive in
my hurrying years. Somehow we both seemed to drift
away from each other, other things to do I suppose.
With all these tubes and measuring instruments embedded
in me, I have not been able to get around as much as before,
and this has given me time to think about You and your kind
invitation to join the others in your lovely home.
I admit I did waiver, there were moments on that mountain
when I felt I could join, should join You, but now I am
getting better and I am not so sure any more. May I make
a suggestion and ask that your next call be put off for a time?
You see I like my life, now that they tell
me I have more time
You see I like my life, now that they tell me I have more time
than I thought last Saturday. I am making plans for the future,
I am going to be very busy for a while and perhaps the best way
To leave things is that we get in touch when I am ready.
Unknown times, shadow places.
There was in the beginning, unbidden, a flickering
in first morning light, an awakening in the wakening,
quietude only in the sleeping of dream nights tumbling
into flickering morning light, a woken awakening
in offered hopes, dreams dangling on ends of worn
thread, woven by shrunken toothless hags, born
to weave and spin unearthly cloaks, precious yet torn,
raggedy in their hanging places, seated in early morn
They laugh and talk, haggle and yawn, hands strangling
impatient cocks, awakening in the wakening, flickering
first thoughts into morning light, breasts pounding
their call is numbed, then smothered, life for the taking.
@ Martin Delany
Ash Wednesday 1994
Greying the light thins
on this decision
for me or not to be
victor meets derision.
Trusting is not for me
losing so often
to bite, bullet or lip
applauding or scoffing.
Working at one thing
is not my real quest
for my mind must range
expanding not depressed.
Freedom from all ties
of rat-grind consensus
I know myself now and
seldom sit on fences.
Remembering that we
in dust can be reborn
a faith that will fulfil me
as some my view scorn.
The science of living, the logic of love Religion's the gift from God above True freedom's held bound by the laws of the land And man can deny them by sleight of the hand.
But, who gave us science our low games to play ? Who told us to cherish?, who'll bear us away ? The laughter of living, the joy of lost youth In lenten years aware of the truth.
The spectre of death, that war-game of hate Controlled all our vision both early and late Bound down by false prophets with no fear or guilt We've cruelly destroyed all the worth that he built
The animals die like seals they cry out The trees live no longer in ditches of silt From profligate waste to profits for few And these are the gifts we can never renew
Who gave us the mind to build or destroy Has left us to ponder in hate or in joy But one thing is certain, now we're resigned To kill nature's bounty, his gift to mankind !