You are currently browsing the daily archive for February 1, 2007.

My ancestors’

blood layered

and filtered

.

Down through

worms, grubs,

and roots.

.

Became a

consort of

lichen and dark

things.

.

Became a night

companion of

the dreaded

.

That creep and

crawl, dormant

and silenced.

.

Go down to where

my forefathers’

.

Blood trickled

with

knowledge;

 

Betrayed and

blackened. 

Where their

.

Bodies, left

hanging

beneath

.

Carnivorous

skies,

remembered,

.

In death those

last blood

thirsty

.

Cries; without

lips, teeth or

tongue,

.

That is where

their blood will

speak

.

.

Celebrate Black History Month.  Read more poems by Alice Parris and hear her vocal tribute to Dinah Washington.

on the first day

of Black History Month, I saw

.

a dusting of snow. A single deer

ran across my yard, heading south

.

in a perfection of nature-in-winter.

The temperature was in the high 20s,

.

but the gray sky refused to fulfill

its deep promise, sending instead

 .
a weather non-event.  I looked to

Ezra Jack Keats for The Snowy Day.

 .

.

Ezra Jack Keats crossed social boundaries by being the first American picture-book maker to give the black child a central place in children’s literature. He won the Caldecott Award in 1963 for his children’s book The Snowy Day. Read his story here.

.

Conrtary to what some people believe, there have always been a few (white) people who have struggled with African Americans for freedom and equality. Ezra Jack Keats was one of these people.

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