Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
In secret spots in the heart of the country
Hot-hearted men are plotting.
They name themselves Christian
Warriors. Christ, their general.
The rest of us slept a deep sleep
While they collected weapons,
Doubling up on the Black President.
They come out of nowhere.
An ambush against reason.
Empty pockets places to fester messily.
The cruelest question is color.
The answer is in the blood.
My mother waits for eye
Surgery and the doctor is late.
She pries off her wedding ring,
Hands it over.
I laugh with my sister and try
Not to blink. Death is tricky.
We have to watch for it.
Where does it come from
Such love that causes my fingers
To tremble as I hide
The ring grandmother gave my mother
In the purse my dead sister's son gave her
Jesus, you know the cause you are leader of.
Written by Angela Jackson
<----> SEND THIS POEM TO A FRIEND! <---->