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Who else is up thinking similar thoughts to mine
Does another live who muses Makeda instead of sleeping or randomly fucking on the pinnacle of 1:27 am

Am I alone in my desire
Or am I the leader of an army,
Ranks hidden behind the span of my shoulders…

Can I find in her the original thought…
Can she lead me to a spring where newness comes forth.

We search the pages of African Civilization for memories of who we are
We don’t search to find slavery, it is packaged in baby bottles
It is a component of the modern black man’s comfort
To find his American dream,
Even though he born and grow in Jamaica with trees, water and sun as a watchman.


But at most we search.
And keep searching for that which has never been found.
If we find it, we might not know.

But we would have found it none the less.

We search for the stories and the names that justify our beauty
For the dreams that lifted our pyramids
For the anchor that held us moored to middle passage memories.