IMAGINE AGAIN

A Children’s Story

 

In my mind

there’s a dark room

with no windows

and no doors

where lies a black box

that remains locked

with no key

where I keep my deepest fears.

 

Fears that exist in the forms of nightmares

that wake me from my dreams

only to hear the screams

of dying children.

 

Children with winged backs

broken hands and bruised feet

who step backwards into the future

with hopes of catching up to their past,

born to African women

that keep visions of black men

hanging high from trees

clenched between their teeth,

holding on to memories

of fathers and sons as they sway in the wind.

 

Children whose lives will end

before they’ve had a chance to begin

after biting away at umbilical cords

in order to free themselves of the burden

brought on by birth—

traveling backward through canals

to escape the death sentences given by life,

screaming fire

and crying blood

with nightmares dangling from their eyelids

and unanswered prayers dying on their lips

while fate burry’s itself

under the nails that blacken over their fingertips.

 

Children who inhale life through their noses

and exhale death from their mouths

while chanting songs that built railroads near plantations

where our forefathers pounded away their lives on train tracks

just so we could have a trail to follow back home.

 

Thus I have returned to save the children.

I have come to save the children

drenched in the blood of slaves

with shackles dangling from my tongue:

speaking in whips that crack the back of Eternity’s sins.

 

I have come to save the children

with winged feet and feathered hands

soaring into the winds of time

to change hours into countless minutes

and minutes into seconds soaked in the blood of freedom.

 

I have come to save the children

with my eyes buried in my palms

and knuckles wrapped around my wrist

like magic beads,

dressed in dreams that never end,

wearing nightmares on the soles of my shoes to crush fear.

 

I have come to save the children

with hope pierced in my ears

and faith tattooed on my tongue

smelling like the scent of forever,

head wrapped in cloths made by destiny.

 

A warrior of peace

with fire burning under my fingernails,

clenching smoke in my fists

only opening to release clouded signals

that tell of victory and truth.

 

I have come to save our youth,

the children who breathe their future

and taste Eternity with the tips of their tongues

the lawyers

the doctors

the educators

the wise men

the father’s

the sons

the songwriters

the poets

the dreamers

the leaders—

these are the children

who’s souls I have come to save

so that I may free my fears

forever.