From the savannah
the deserts
the grasslands
the veldt
and the jungle
The music played
On the ship
In the cabins
In the master’s house
and the whipping sheds
and the cotton and tobacco fields
The music played
And at sunset
Heads lowered over
Unmarked graves of
Old men and
Innocent children
The music played
From the Underground Railroad
through the rise of Pullman Porters
The music played
Through Jim Crow
and chain gangs
The music played
Through hard times
and celebrations
Through vibrant
ululations
and rising expectations
The music played
In the Deep South
through the screams
and cries wrought
by night riders
and cross burnings
The music played
Over the sound
of barking dogs
and high pressure hoses
The music played
Through Malcolm, through Newton,
and Martin and Jesse
The music played
Through the first black…
The music…
We must teach the songs
that kept the voices lifted
though hearts were heavy
Kept the flames lit though
our dreams of freedom were
constantly extinguished
Kept hope alive through our best
writers, artists, and orators.
The music played, and plays still
And it will play on
as long as we remember,
And if
we
teach it well,
long after
we’re
gone.
Beyond Panic 