Same as it ever was (for Travon, Danroy, Cary, et al)



Two poems by  Langston Hughes, seminal poet, novelist, playwright and humorist, and Sterling A. Brown, poet, professor, folklorist and essayist, offer words still true long after they wrote them and they themselves have passed from this earth.  Truth never stops being true. Poems by brothers about brothers for everyone.


Kids Who Die by Langston Hughes


This is for the kids who die,
Black and white,
For kids will die certainly.
The old and rich will live on awhile,
As always,
Eating blood and gold,
Letting kids die.


Kids will die in the swamps of Mississippi
Organizing sharecroppers
Kids will die in the streets of Chicago
Organizing workers
Kids will die in the orange groves of California
Telling others to get together
Whites and Filipinos,
Negroes and Mexicans,
All kinds of kids will die
Who don’t believe in lies, and bribes, and contentment
And a lousy peace.


Of course, the wise and the learned
Who pen editorials in the papers,
And the gentlemen with Dr. in front of their names
White and black,
Who make surveys and write books
Will live on weaving words to smother the kids who die,
And the sleazy courts,
And the bribe-reaching police,
And the blood-loving generals,
And the money-loving preachers
Will all raise their hands against the kids who die,
Beating them with laws and clubs and bayonets and bullets
To frighten the people—
For the kids who die are like iron in the blood of the people—
And the old and rich don’t want the people
To taste the iron of the kids who die,
Don’t want the people to get wise to their own power,
To believe an Angelo Herndon, or even get together


Listen, kids who die—
Maybe, now, there will be no monument for you
Except in our hearts
Maybe your bodies’ll be lost in a swamp
Or a prison grave, or the potter’s field,
Or the rivers where you’re drowned like Leibknecht
But the day will come—
Your are sure yourselves that it is coming—
When the marching feet of the masses
Will raise for you a living monument of love,
And joy, and laughter,
And black hands and white hands clasped as one,
And a song that reaches the sky—
The song of the life triumphant
Through the kids who die.


Strong Men by Sterling Brown

They dragged you from the homeland, They chained you in coffles,
They huddled you spoon-fashion in filthy hatches,
They sold you to give a few gentlemen ease.


They broke you in like oxen, They scourged you, They branded you,
They made your women breeders, They swelled your numbers with bastards..
They taught you the religion they disgraced.


You sang:
       Keep a-inchin’ along
       Lak a po’ inch worm…


You sang:
       By and Bye
       I’m gonna lay down this heaby load…


You sang:
       Walk togedder, chillen,
       Dontcha git weary…
              The strong men keep a-comin’ on
              The strong men get stronger.


They point with pride to the roads you built for them,
They ride in comfort over the rails you laid for them.
They put hammers in your hands
And said-Drive so much before sundown.


You sang:
       Ain’t no hammah
       In dis lan’
       Strikes lak mine, bebby,
       Stikes lak mine.


They cooped you in their kitchens,
They penned you in their factories,
They gave you the jobs that they were too good for,
They tried to guarantee happiness to themselves
By shunting dirt and misery to you….


You sang:
       Me an’ muh baby gonna shine, shine
       Me an’ muh baby gonna shine.
              The strong men keep a-comin’ on
              The strong men git stronger. . . .


They bought off some of your leaders
You stumbled, as blind men will. . . .
They coaxed you, unwontedly soft-voiced. . . .
You followed a way.
Then laughed as usual.
They heard the laugh and wondered;
Uncomfortable;
Unadmitting a deeper terror. . . .
              The strong men keep a-comin’ on
              Gittin’ stronger. . . .


What, from the slums
Where they have hemmed you
What, from the tiny huts
They could not keep from you –
What reaches them
Making them ill at ease, fearful?
Today they shout prohibition at you
“Thou shalt not this.”
“Thou shalt not that.”
“Reserved for whites only”
You laugh.


One thing they cannot prohibit –
              The strong men . . . coming on
              The strong’ men gittin’ stronger.
              Strong men. . . .
              Stronger. . . .


<><><>
How strong, how long?  How strong, how long?


Related:


Beyond Travon: Black and Unarmed – by Jenée Demond-Harris from TheRoot.com – 20


Danroy Henry – Pace University Student, College Student from MA shot, killed by police in NY


Cary Ball, Jr. – Black Honor Student Shot 25 Times by St. Louis Police

I could keep making a list but I’ll stop here.


 


About Candelaria Silva

Candelaria Silva-Collins is a marketing, community outreach and programming consultant; writer; and trainer/facilitator who lives in Boston, Massachusetts. She has designed and facilitated workshops on a wide variety of topics including communication, facilitation, job search skills, team building, and parenting issues. She currently coordinates the Community Membership Program of the Huntington Theatre Company. Her work as Director of ACT Roxbury was profiled in several publications, including The Creative Communities Builders Handbook. Candelaria’s children’s stories, short stories, essays and reviews have been published in local and national publications and she is an active blogger. Her publications include the booklets, Handling Rejection; Pushing through Shyness: Networking Tips when You’re Shy, Slow to Warm Up or Just don’t Feel you Belong; and Real Questions about Sex & Relationships for Teens: A Discussion Guide for Parents. She has served on the boards of Goddard College, Wheelock Family Theatre, Boston Foundation for Architecture, and Discover Roxbury. She is currently Chair, Designators of the Henderson Foundation.

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