My Pen Refuses to Die

how dare anyone ban reading
how dare anyone exile wisdom
how dare anyone assassinate visionaries
how dare claim anyone
the pen is now no longer
mightier than the sword

my pen refuses to die

though literacy is an outlaw now
though an aggressive, arrogant
ignorance exalted remains
though grand dragons now flourish
though jim crow boldly shows his face

my pen refuses to die

Our pens refuse to die

How Will I Fare When I Stand Before Goliath

How will I fare before a Goliath?

will discouragement from family, friends
invade my ears, my heart, make me stand down
will the terror of his girth, horror his sword
make me cower, fret, lose nerve, run and hide

who is this Goliath that makes me shrink
from following after my dreams?

the apprehension of taking a risk,
the fear of failure pursuing success,
the timidity of stepping on stage,
the avoidance having, achieving goals,

who is Goliath that makes me stand down?

After Losing a Long, Well Fought Fight

after losing a long, well fought fight
the rain or our pain pelts the pith in our joints
the heat of our hurt melts the marrow
in our bones

the valleys of our battlefields
are covered with wreckage of dreams deferred
our steeds are worn
our banners torn
into the wind our masts blown
and our tears rage
like the charge of rolling rapids
raging in an upset river

arising, raising our once torn
now mended banners higher
we tread trails of trial
trails of test
trails of travail
trails of toil

nonetheless, the hardened footsteps
of our tempered feet tend not
towards long retreat

towards our battlefield
towards our commitment
towards our vision
toward our dream

towards the source of our sore
once the gates are open

we shall return