POEM: MAY OUR DESCENDANTS RISE

photo by Alex Lear

 

 

MAY OUR DESCENDANTS RISE

/from a conversation with gail about child rearing/

 

children have sophisticated eyes, naturally attentive ears

their thirsty souls are eager to be watered by the resplendent rain

of inspirational parental acts such as the dismantling of machines

& the patient crafting of toys from the clay of talk & touch

 

toddlers need to experience us naked, young shyness mesmerized

by us embracing our lovers without mercy, teenagers should be

intoxicated by inhaling the potency of our spirits regardless

of the paucity of our bank accounts, no matter how bad

our morning breath young folk need our kisses

& even when we are heartbroken our lineage should revel

in the defiance of our blues feet moving on unshackled

by the melodrama of self pity, buoyed by the spring

of steady stepping uplifting the flag of i regret nothing

i have freely given from the interior of my heart

 

we should show youth how to talk by listening to them

especially when they are not saying anything so-called important

the young need the sage splendor of old word givers

who are also faithful word keepers, brilliant

as collected droplets of mist forming elder rainbows

which axiomatically brighten youthful dawns

adults should exist with such tender sincerity that butterflies

alight on our shoulders as we face-down the narcissist

individuality of the west with unstinting love the hallmark

of how we handle the intimacy of intergenerational social relations

 

children respect truth no matter how horrible for

there are no lies we can tell to effectively shield little people

from the blows of our failures if we refuse to gift

them with the shelter of day to day realities fashioned

from the ephemeral material of our nightly dreams

our example should teach & teach hard that there is

no shame in valiant efforts to continue the struggle

regardless of the dearth of victories

may our inheritors never witness the grim visage

of a long list of don'ts beclouding our faces, rather

than cringe beneath the whip of non-permission

let our issue always experience the caress of encouragement

as they emerge from us dancing to the rhythms

of african fierceness bodacious as sun licks planting

a tongue kiss on the blackness of life's big lips

 

—kalamu ya salaam