Wind Looking For Trails

This is an invitation. Accuse me of negligence. I and no body has out lawed barracoons or middle passages for you.

There is no international out cry over rape. There is no Asiento to localize the disgrace.

I and no body has challenged the auction blocks you inherit. The religious right will not allow morality to be declared an endangered species. It has some thing to do with keeping Darwin out of worship. However male sexual dominance is with in the sacred texts I read.

There are societies which “protect you” but will not give you the right to vote or choose the style you wear.

I agree no body knows the troubles you see but I can not detect any chariots coming for to carry you home. This is a place where there has been no emancipation for your name. Though “We shall over come one day.” The Justice Department does not protect black girls.

This is America.

I could say that I write poems and teach African-American Studies but that would be cowardice.

I and no body teach what is needed to be taught about you. Or do we allow you to sing your epic passages.

I stand accused.

For not knowing.

I was not there when he snatched you away from child hood and I know him. He sleeps in the mirror in side my face.

I was there and not there. When you winnow your spirit through veins of dark shame.

Where can a black girl’s innocence steal away   steal away     steal away

There ain’t no million men marching or atoning for your tragedy. If one black man stood on every street named after a preacher you could not be raped with impunity.

This is America.

But I stand accused

for not knowing.

The deep caverns of my heart where your gender resides in a rented corner. And I get an eviction order when ever images of your pain. Speak their losses.

I am a run a way dream    on strike missions of impotence.

I sit by the road side when your pains try to thumb a ride.

I stand accused.

I am a run a way    searching I am a lone dream    with out a guitar to cry my pleas I spend too much time in the wind looking for trails of my heart aches    I

stand accused.

I spend four decades searching. I spend four decades journeying.

I spend four decades singing blues on paper.

But I do not sing long enough.