Yellow Power, Yellow Soul: The Radical Art of Fred Ho

It Remains to Be Seen

iT remAinS To Be Seen Only the drums And yells of yay! Only the drums And yells of yay! Because we are alive in this place. Because we grew up on Now-or-Laters, Candy necklaces and Cocoa Puffs And we are still here. Here to bear witness, to stomp, holler, love, scream To declare that it remains to be seen, to fight. Surely Bush and his crew are no worse than McKinley and his crew And my people survived! Surely Colin Powell and Condi Rice are not worse Than Booker T. and Stepin Fetchit. And my people survived! Surely the latest no-lye relaxer and hair weave Are not worse than the conk, process or hard press. And my people survived! Bring my armor Fuse with me the collective spine Of Middle Passage bones Raising from the ocean bottom. Bring conga, djembe, kalimba, steel pan. The deepest well pitch of Paul Robeson, The most makes-you-cry note of Marvin Gaye, Bring big pots of black-eyed peas, injections of melanin Bring the mass choir from Mississippi Mahatma Ghandi’s prayerful walk But don’t forget Harriet Tubman’s pistol! Because the polar caps are melting now And our farms are nearly all gone. They put pig genes in our collards and tomatoes. Horse piss into our wombs. Smallpox, anthrax and Ritalin in our veins. And, into our hands, either a rifle, a corporate card Or some license to entertain. Only the drums and yells of yay! Only the drums and yells of yay! Because I am here in this place. Because we are here Because we—who weren’t supposed to be . . . anything From North Philly, the South Side, Southeast, and Compton— Have survived Nixon’s forehead, Reagan cheese, The Bushman’s smartbombs and now The Bushmaster’s do-it-yourself terror. Survived cordons of gangs, crack, crackheads And our cut buddies turned predators and capitalist tool. Only the drums And yells of yay! Because I am here, alive In this place Because we are here And we weren’t supposed to be . . . anything Go on—take me to the river. Go on—take it to the bridge! Because Rumsfeld, Ashcroft, Cheney and Rove Are on the loose! Trying to code my life in orange, red and yellow alerts. Wanting me to be afraid as I peer at the TV screen Exploding with lies and myth. And my people have survived! Because the polar caps are melting now And our farms are nearly all gone. They put pig genes in our collards and tomatoes. Horse piss into our wombs. Smallpox, Anthrax and Ritalin in our veins. And, into our hands, either a rifle, a corporate card Or some license to entertain. C’mon. Bring conga, djembe, kalimba, steel pan. Make thunder. Go on—take me to the river. Go on—take it to the bridge! Because we have survived And we are here, In this place all bathed and in our armor. And ready. —Esther Iverem ...