Song for Emmet Till
By Alice Lovelace
that shameful day I set foot on Mississippi soil
felt like vertigo, a fall from reality into a
fantasyland tethered to an imagined history
based on false honor ancient maladies.
when few people of the world lived free
even on the day of my encounter
I was free
life in the delta was complicated my soul
bound up in Africa, hungry for a homeland
my Chicago strut announced a geography
they could not understand
I am the eye destiny ate to foresee a nation’s future
cast me as a slave to the theatre of my day.
I was hooded and pinned
dropped off the Tallahatchie bridge
on the third day I rose
ascended unto myth and melancholy.
call my name and know that I am not your burden
Emmett Till is a weapon
a freedom call mistaken for a whistle.
I looked into the eyes of my killers– bore witness to their fears
when you call my name broadcast it over satellite
explain I was not the prey but an echo thru time
the prey turned hunter.
when you call their names
call them what they were and remain
stalkers molesters torturers child killers
delusional and armed drunk on
the siren song of their own superiority.
when you call my name say
Emmit Till was fourteen years old
when grown men drug me from my uncle’s home
in the wee hours of a glory be to god Sunday morning
hooded and pinned me beat and kicked me
bashed and thrashed me cut and burned me
garlanded my neck with barbed wire
shot me in the head
tossed my body into the water.
justice favored me
my mother peeled back their shabby hoods
made a lancet of my mangled body
struck true and deep under their cloaks of superiority
in that moment I became a manifesto
brown boys beware
the wizard has us in his gaze
think of me, think of Treyvon
two multiplied by twenty-two million.
know we are global
this litany did not arrive in verse and refrain
by way of Mr. Barnes and Money, Mississippi
by way of those who suffer inflated false pride
who built monuments to savagery and depravity
hatred immortalized in public spaces
dedicated to the stars and bars
dedicated to their certainty that Emmet
had no place in their world.
when you call their names
say they were small insignificant men
say they were prisoners of a psychotic reaction
to the spatial variations of color and hue
to human phenomena.
when you call my name
speak the truth and spread the word
Emmett till was murdered
in filthy little money, Mississippi
say I was fourteen years old
my mother’s name still on my lips
say it was in the new hours of a
hallelujah praise god Sunday morning
tell how they drug me from my uncle’s home
hooded and pinned me
beat and kicked me
bashed and thrashed me
cut and burned me
garlanded my neck with barbed wire
shot me in the head
made the mistake of tossing my body into the water
on the third day I rose
my body, bruised and battered
sparked a movement that is still moving
sing:
there is no danger in the water
in my god’s waters
in the water
there is no danger in my god’s waters
in the water
step on board oh oh oh oh yes
and follow me.
a song for Emmett till
Alice Lovelace, 2013
By Alice Lovelace
that shameful day I set foot on Mississippi soil
felt like vertigo, a fall from reality into a
fantasyland tethered to an imagined history
based on false honor ancient maladies.
when few people of the world lived free
even on the day of my encounter
I was free
life in the delta was complicated my soul
bound up in Africa, hungry for a homeland
my Chicago strut announced a geography
they could not understand
I am the eye destiny ate to foresee a nation’s future
cast me as a slave to the theatre of my day.
I was hooded and pinned
dropped off the Tallahatchie bridge
on the third day I rose
ascended unto myth and melancholy.
call my name and know that I am not your burden
Emmett Till is a weapon
a freedom call mistaken for a whistle.
I looked into the eyes of my killers– bore witness to their fears
when you call my name broadcast it over satellite
explain I was not the prey but an echo thru time
the prey turned hunter.
when you call their names
call them what they were and remain
stalkers molesters torturers child killers
delusional and armed drunk on
the siren song of their own superiority.
when you call my name say
Emmit Till was fourteen years old
when grown men drug me from my uncle’s home
in the wee hours of a glory be to god Sunday morning
hooded and pinned me beat and kicked me
bashed and thrashed me cut and burned me
garlanded my neck with barbed wire
shot me in the head
tossed my body into the water.
justice favored me
my mother peeled back their shabby hoods
made a lancet of my mangled body
struck true and deep under their cloaks of superiority
in that moment I became a manifesto
brown boys beware
the wizard has us in his gaze
think of me, think of Treyvon
two multiplied by twenty-two million.
know we are global
this litany did not arrive in verse and refrain
by way of Mr. Barnes and Money, Mississippi
by way of those who suffer inflated false pride
who built monuments to savagery and depravity
hatred immortalized in public spaces
dedicated to the stars and bars
dedicated to their certainty that Emmet
had no place in their world.
when you call their names
say they were small insignificant men
say they were prisoners of a psychotic reaction
to the spatial variations of color and hue
to human phenomena.
when you call my name
speak the truth and spread the word
Emmett till was murdered
in filthy little money, Mississippi
say I was fourteen years old
my mother’s name still on my lips
say it was in the new hours of a
hallelujah praise god Sunday morning
tell how they drug me from my uncle’s home
hooded and pinned me
beat and kicked me
bashed and thrashed me
cut and burned me
garlanded my neck with barbed wire
shot me in the head
made the mistake of tossing my body into the water
on the third day I rose
my body, bruised and battered
sparked a movement that is still moving
sing:
there is no danger in the water
in my god’s waters
in the water
there is no danger in my god’s waters
in the water
step on board oh oh oh oh yes
and follow me.
a song for Emmett till
Alice Lovelace, 2013
|
|