From the savanna,
the deserts,
the grasslands,
the veldt,
and the jungle,
The music played.
From the empires,
the gold and diamond mines,
and the pyramids,
The music played.
From the ivory tusks,
the red clay,
the ebony wood,
and the skins of war drums,
The music played.
On the ship,
In the cabins,
In ‘massa’s house,
In 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,
chain gangs,
and Sunday morning services,
The music played.
Through hard times
and celebrations,
and through vibrant
ululations,
and our 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 and Dr. Huey Newton,
and Martin and Jesse,
and Barack Obama,
The music played.
Through the first black…(insert pioneer name here)
The music…(still playing)
We must teach the songs
that kept the voices lifted
though hearts were heavy,
Kept the flames of joyous spirits
and the love of hearts
lit,
though our dreams of freedom were
constantly extinguished.
Kept hope alive through our best
writers, artists, and orators,
Proud Black Men
and Beautiful Black Women
united in one purpose:
Us.
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.
