for BLACK history month - poetry...

Lat-23.5'N Long-20'W Winds-increasing Moving-West

You do not remember us
or consider our chants of beginning.
You do not believe in our religions
or the power of amulets,
bags of magical power
held against our beating chests.

You know nothing of the ‘dydru gysera’
our family histories or the taboo
prophesying bad luck
for those washed in waters
first felt by someone else.

For it is the dry spiced winds
of very ancient things traveling over
great sandy deserts, roaring like demons forced
through a tunnel
which combines with cool sprays

of ocean air -
hissing steamy shouts of rain becoming dark downpours of souls

surging together
in thunderous voices of seasonal parade

pushing wave after wave
shaped by hateful nature





traveling outward from mankind's first continent.


Bound in huge swirling somersaults of howling names.
Christened by forecasters
supposedly bringing enlightenment as: Ashanti
Bantu
Chembe
Dja
Ebo
Fulani
Gulla
Hutu

Before we are thrown wrapped
in weathered chains,
on the shores of the far Americas.