Sequence for Mumia Abu Jamal by Dennis Brutus
by Malaika Wa Azania on Sunday, February 13, 2011 at 3:23pm ·
Some voices must be silenced,they threaten the structures of seemingly safe respectable lives.
Their clear vibrations may shatter the crystalline shelters that encase us from reality,shielding us from unbearable truths
but some may choose not to be deaf.They beat with broken palms agains the smooth impenetrable glass of lies and comfort and power,and beg to hear the piteous cries rising from the smoke and fire:
some voices must not be silenced.
The smooth impenetrable glass of indifference and uncaring is cool and pleasant to the touch,like the stone heart of power that conceals the rottenness within.
In the night anger burns like fire along the veins in the brain and at the core of the anguished unavailing heart.
Red and orange and saffron,the fiery ghosts rise in the night to sear the dreaming brain and blast the wakeful eyeballs staring into the dark:
images of terror.
Red,bright red as blood luminous with life.
Anger runs through the brain.
Anger against injustice.
Anger against pain.
Anger against impotence.
And red,red as a rose
red as soft red velvet
red as a deep red rose
with shadows dark to black.
Red as poppies in sunlight
red as massed salvia
red as the blood of children in the dust of Soweto
(come see the blood of children in the streets of Soweto).
Red as poppies in the sunlight with their fragile beauty
with their indestructible beauty
steadfast under battering rain so strong,so red our own courage:
will not bow down
will not submit to defeat
our courage will endure.
Our truth will survive...
Their clear vibrations may shatter the crystalline shelters that encase us from reality,shielding us from unbearable truths
but some may choose not to be deaf.They beat with broken palms agains the smooth impenetrable glass of lies and comfort and power,and beg to hear the piteous cries rising from the smoke and fire:
some voices must not be silenced.
The smooth impenetrable glass of indifference and uncaring is cool and pleasant to the touch,like the stone heart of power that conceals the rottenness within.
In the night anger burns like fire along the veins in the brain and at the core of the anguished unavailing heart.
Red and orange and saffron,the fiery ghosts rise in the night to sear the dreaming brain and blast the wakeful eyeballs staring into the dark:
images of terror.
Red,bright red as blood luminous with life.
Anger runs through the brain.
Anger against injustice.
Anger against pain.
Anger against impotence.
And red,red as a rose
red as soft red velvet
red as a deep red rose
with shadows dark to black.
Red as poppies in sunlight
red as massed salvia
red as the blood of children in the dust of Soweto
(come see the blood of children in the streets of Soweto).
Red as poppies in the sunlight with their fragile beauty
with their indestructible beauty
steadfast under battering rain so strong,so red our own courage:
will not bow down
will not submit to defeat
our courage will endure.
Our truth will survive...
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