By Magdalena Gómez—

Winter comes too late
resurrected roses sing
a Mother’s Day refrain
doors brag pudgy holly wreaths
that have no need of rain
children dream of snowflakes
as resting Nature wakes
weary of endless giving
she hides, she hoards, she takes
the balance out of living;
lessons for the indolent
who’ve taken her for granted
gluttonous years of gathering
when we should have planted.

As it was and is.
One prepares for battle,
the other for surrender.
To those who say “No more!”
who by mindful will and work
change the course
of a wild and headless wind
to them I give my gratitude
to them I sing this hymn.
I am because they are
as the will to live within me dies
my essence recovers fortitude
as courageous voices rise:

BLACK LIVES MATTER
in these days of restless despair
days of fear, and hate
when evil ones stake claims
on what was never theirs
cordoning regal balconies
from where they judge life’s theatre
devoid of wisdom or love
those who in all eras
live the best of the belle époque
who with their blaring descants
deploy perversions into sacred songs
theirs is the kingdom of their own disgrace
living in bodies where they don’t belong.
To be asked why one might care
the most ignorant of inquiries
perennial root of humanity’s despair
I beg immortals quell my rage
compassion for the vicious
a charisma of the sacred sage
no saint, no angel here;
I’ve grown less tolerant with age.

Thanks to God in whom I don’t believe
who loves me just the same,
binds me to her sleeve
to battle for the bits of faith
that in each of us remain;
action, despair’s opponent
stubborn love, the elixir
for the weariest of souls.
Each to their corners?
No!
All to the center square!
Every face of humankind.
Every gender.
Every race.
Every language spoken,
in defiance of injustice
take your place!

BLACK LIVES MATTER
sings the baby in the manger
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the Kings of every race
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sings the mother from the stable
BLACK LIVES MATTER
writes the moon upon her face
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the stars that seek their place
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sings the oil that fills the lamps
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the reverent from their mats
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sings the desert to the rain
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the exiles to each other

BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the mountains to the plains
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the Masters from their graves
perfection’s hell has taught them
what it means to be a slave
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sings the keeper of the latch
time has worn his roofs and doors
raging earth his hearth erased.
Among bodies left forgotten
the remorseful seek their grace.

BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing four little girls
from embers still burning
BLACK LIVES MATTER
Sing the scars from Emmett’s face
BLACK LIVES MATTER
Sing Malcolm and Ali
their words in this dark night
a thunderous refrain
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the J-Block walls,
those buried alive
in front of our eyes
beg ghosts to be their shawls.
BLACK LIVES MATTER
sing the innocent and just;
this hymn belongs to us all
promised in marriage to dust.
BLACK LIVES MATTER
do not make the matter small;
BLACK LIVES MATTER
these words belong to all.
What child is this?
Our child, crucified
shot, beaten, blamed
choked, punched, dragged
left for dead
by hatred’s refrain.
Take it down!
Sing it down!
Be the thunderous refrain!
Dig up the bones of justice
put her back together again.
Roar and awaken the dream
of executed Kings and the
Fearless Women Warriors
who still remain unseen.
BLACK LIVES MATTER
this hymn belongs to all.
Do not, I beg, do not
make the matter small.

Despair in America. We are experiencing what the 16th-century Spanish poet and Roman Catholic mystic, Saint John of the Cross, referred to as  “the dark night of the soul”; the soul’s desire for a unitive experience with the Divine. Arduous work, to live in truth. Believer or not, all long for the liberated life.

U.S.A.: highest rate of incarceration in the world. Prisons, the new slave mills. Corporate privatization: cheap, forced labor. Do you know where the clothes you wear and the things you buy are made?

Mass murder, suicides, schools to prisons pipeline, bigotry, poverty, hunger, homelessness, feeble protection of children’s rights; it’s easier for them to get heroin than a hug. What child is this? Our Child. Our People. Our Earth. Rise. Read. Act.  ■