I am posting this as a special request from one of my students. Thank you, Andrea, for asking me.
The following is a poem that I use in my poetry classes to introduce poetry as storytelling. It is one of my favorite pieces to perform. The place is real, the persons are real, and yes, this really did happen.
If you enjoy the poem, please feel free to leave a response on the blog. I would love to hear from you!
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Spirits’ Crossing for You whoever you are…
he was poised on a street corner,
where Rev. Dr. Joseph P. Lowery Boulevard,
formerly known as Ashby Street, meets
Ralph David Abernathy Avenue
in that pseudo-black mecca called,
Hotlanta, ATL,
the dirtiest part of the Dirty South that
wears white, lace gloves
on Sundays.
he was there poised,
beneath a traffic light,
left turn lane,
in a fire red truck.
onyx eyes fixed in a sea of
creamy mahogany
with a crown of dreaded serpents about his head
and a silver hoop in one ear
twinkling beneath the sunshine
beckoning me.
he was poised
looking like a cross between
Wesley Snipes and Jesus,
what Jesus really looked like,
or maybe Osirus.
he was poised,
a mysterious pyramid invincible
amidst the madness of urban decay,
where so many of his brothers
trudge the same streets,
suited and booted with
weighted crosses strapped to their backs,
razors in one hand, emaciated phallus in the other,
and bible verses clogging their third eyes.
he was poised, fertile and free,
looked into me and
reflected all my past lifetimes in a single glance.
I became the Virgin before Jesus,
or maybe Isis in flight while
he was hip hop and holy, wholly:
father, son and ghost,
the most magic in a moment
I had touched in a while,
perhaps forever.
he was full enough
to fill me in a moment
with just a look.
he sang a sonata without as much as a smile
while floating me on the rivers of his soul
to someplace I’ve been before,
but could not go that day.
‘cause
i was in the left hand turn lane
going the other way
where Rev. Dr. Joseph P. Lowery Boulevard,
formerly known as Ashby Street, meets
Ralph David Abernathy Avenue
in that pseudo-black mecca called
Hotlanta, ATL,
the dirtiest part of the Dirty South that
wears white, lace gloves
on Sundays.
it was Monday
with impatient cars behind me,
so all I could do was squeal with ecstasy
and pray he heard me
praise his divinity
that baptized my soul,
made me wholly holy,
and set me free
for a moment.
@ 2018, Tamara J. Madison
Yes, this is that same corner, Abernathy & Lowery! Now it's your turn! Please share with others and respond to the blog below! Thank you!