A Resolution…Prelude to the Revelation of the Revolution
Whereas, I stand in this space of knowing beyond belief that all parties involved in the crucifixion of an innocent man (men or women) shall come to terms with their nemesis, a manifestation of their own psyche, to be visited by their own iniquities.
Whereas, such nemesis shall bring forth justice and bear witness to their restitution and due remuneration for indifference to human dignity, pain and suffering based on seemingly none other that blatant disregard for otherness… in this case blackness.
Whereas, in due faith and high regard, on behalf of one who fell prey to aforementioned atrocity, I unapologetically pen these words with archetypal irrefutability of one who you believe
- Was born in obscurity
- Was born to a mother outside of the holy bond(age) of matrimony
- Grew up in a less than favorable neighborhood
- Stood for what was was believed to be right
- Was innocent
- Was condemned to death by an unjust system
- Was Crucified (hung)
- Death served the greater good of more than the deceased.
- Rose again
- Will return to claim his throne
- Because of his role in advocating and standing for right, gave his life so that others may live.
- Will be crowned King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
Whereas this work shall be an elegy for one who fits this category. And you shall see him for what he is, even as you bear witness to his truth.
As I sit bent over this page
By bent I’m not just talking ‘bout my physicality
I’m straight bent in mind
Straight twisted up in these
Blue rags dipt in white and read wrong
I’m bent outta shape of things to come
Crammed in the slop-bucket of a chattel past
Trying to jam me in your frame of my future
I’m bent over, cramps in my hand while I bleed on these pages
Of History
But I came on the pages of mine,
Locked body, mind, and spirit
And wet up the promise like Savannah’s summer rain
Hot as fuck and just as joyful
She swelled and tarried in the sun and brought forth one of the same
Son of my fathers, son, brother, uncle, friend, and god
Locked in arms of eternal belief
That sacred relief of release
And you shall call him Kalief
He shall come and take his stand
And for that stand he will die
Choked out on this American pie
He is flesh of my flesh and bone from my bone
And little bits of home
Son of man, spawn of God
He struggled beneath that cold rugged loss
I hear them drums a beatin’ and the trumpets soundin’
Krown him, krown him
My teared eyes squint ‘neath the furrow of my brow
For Browder, Kalief, Kalief
Wherefore have they forsaken you
They knew just what they did
We pour a little out for my homie
This cup shall not run dry
As surely as the sun shall rise
And he shall so indeed,
We will walk the walk of walks, hand in hand
You will tell me the story of the stories unstored
From beneath the lash, and slavers chain
And then shall only truth remain
Never the same
Never the same
Some mama’s baby boy
Out there in the back yard chasing butterflies
Transformed into a man
Came forth and took a stand
And you shall know him as Kalief
He did come and take his stand
And for that stand he did die
Choked out on this American pie
He is flesh of my flesh and bone from my bone
Son of man, spawn of God
He struggled beneath that cold rugged loss
And laid down life for us
I hear them drums a beatin’ and the trumpets soundin’
Krown him, krown him
(An Elegy for Kalief)
Notes of A Native Son 