By Michael Hall
Forethought: Celestial Road to Zion
The jungle is a skyscraper
With its balconies bursting
With fate in a pleasant mood
Festooned
By flora and fauna
In the form of ebony
Moonbeams, the zodiac
& lunar sunrises sown in the skyline
Of a constellated canopy
As we speak in tones of time
Meandering
Like the Nile & the Niger, in
& out of streams
Of consciousness
Telling history
Along the way, from Eden
To where we’re inscribed today
On the wings of dreams
At the speed of night’s
Curious conjures about the cosmos
& its strange celestial road.
Afterthought: Down Here on the Ground
The jungle is a skyscraper
Still standing
On the 1926 bricks
Of a manifesto
That foretold the fact
Of nothing great arising
Out of assimilation or
Imitation, rooted in
The racial mountain penned by Langston
Amidst a Renaissance
Happening in Harlem
Where Africa talked
(& is still talking)
To you, down here on the asphalt, but
The message
Keeps getting lost
In translation
Amongst the urbanites, who do
Not necessarily see any grass
Or trees nor do they believe
In any American dream…
& each & every soul
Echoes the motto:
“It’ll be a good day
When we don’t have
To deal with police brutality
& equality actually extends back
Into the inner city that dwells
In me.
