The Leaking Umbrella

I am a negro
first of three, with a white skin
a distinct color that differs me from the others
I came first yet, the smallest branch of a huge tree
my doom is to always care for the ones below
for guidance, strength and security
one tiny branch trying to keep bigger hedges from breaking loose

When I fall, they stand
and when I stand, they wither
now I bend to look at the earth through the mirror above
and I see the broken britches I knew sprouting from beneath
so I smile with cries of pain
my seedlings have taken tour to the root of our very foundation
and who have passed this contention
down to our third and fourth generations

A Negroid race of a sort
If only I could get hold of a negro axe
I would toss it deep into the space, far away to Jupiter
never to return again
to harm the generations that follow me.
I am a living dead negro, that fights a negro racism
alone I shall preach to all mankind
till I plant the new seed of Africa
where a beautiful tree will grow
to erase everything that is dark
which will still have the same peaceful dark in the fury of white

The warm rain that pours from the sky
will wash over the new continent like a kiss
a kiss that shuts the old Africa down like a power outage
may thousands of rain drops wash us white
to redeem us with a crystal black
a thought that will drown on all Negros
traces of this I see here and there..

But in the moment;
I think the future tricks me into believing that
we are something that would last
though I miss the serenity of the past
in the present arms, I remain calm!

This is to say, the world is a train

that conveys different shades of faces

from one quantum point

to a pivot destination

a destination that moves in cycles

with God being the invader of this train

who is one for all

So, why the division?

A man struggles with an umbrella in strong winds and rain caused by Cyclone Hudhud in Gopalpur in Ganjam district in the eastern Indian state of Odisha October 12, 2014. Cyclone Hudhud blasted India's eastern seaboard on Sunday with gusts of up to 195 km per hour (over 120 mph), uprooting trees, damaging buildings and killing at least five people despite a major evacuation effort. REUTERS/Stringer (INDIA - Tags: DISASTER ENVIRONMENT)

Advertisements

20 thoughts on “The Leaking Umbrella

  1. Ah.. an outcast is a color of togetherness.. that warm flow of knowing separation is often
    the greatest inspiration of living love of all.. that warm look of knowing.. FEELING
    what is inside is what counts.. and love and courage flows outward in
    eyes and not just skin.. trains of sameness are
    not trains i for one will ride..
    the diversity in color
    in all shades of hues
    in grey and purple
    roses is how
    i feel the
    love
    US ALL..:)

    I need not look at your
    words as you are human
    and your face shows
    all the strength
    and LOVE
    i need
    to know..
    and FEEL..
    truly a sickness
    of online is people
    who never show
    their faces.. as i too..
    am a faceless human being
    too.. before.. now i show my
    FULL colors from
    head to
    toe to
    soul
    of
    eyes..:)
    You are whole
    and that is more
    than most
    of
    US..
    online
    or
    OFF!

    And if anyone comes
    here today and claims
    yOurs is not a train..
    i will vouch
    write
    now
    that you
    are a train
    to me!..:)

    Liked by 1 person

      • That is very true. For being in a hurry, it truly was an excellent poem, a rich poem. If i do not have time to meet a prompt and others do this as well, i will submit for Open Link night with the notation that it was for whatever prompt but didn’t have time so here it is for OLN. You might also consider asking the dVerse team about submitting something that does not meet the prompt to a prompt session… Today is OLN so I hope you have something else for us to read today!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Sometimes I look at the prompts and groan, especially some of the forms. But it helps me learn about the different forms and it is interesting to see the different takes on a subject or how people craft a form. Sigh…..sometimes I just have to submit late but it works out. But I am glad yoy shared your poem and how powerfully it spoke of you. We need to hear more,

        Liked by 1 person

  2. These are my favorite sections:

    “When I fall, they stand
    and when I stand, they wither”

    “If only I could get hold of a negro axe
    I would toss it deep into the space, far away to Jupiter”

    “I am a living dead negro”

    “to erase everything that is dark
    which will still have the same peaceful dark in the fury of white

    The warm rain that pours from the sky
    will wash over the new continent like a kiss”

    I love the way the title weaves into the ending.

    What a pained voice you write from. It makes for beautiful poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s