The ink is my blood so with every drop I sacrifice my mind to the thoughts of pain and struggle, to the struggles that got me where I am. Thank God for those veins that carried me across the Atlantic, for that spirit that survived the middle passage, to the spirit that fought to read that middle passage, till today where that same spirit lives through me and now I can write that middle passage. So I write these words for that slave that bears the scars of the chain and shackles, for that slave that carried his Beloved roots on his back. And I write these words for the slave that suffered with the yoke of the iron around his neck and the muffle over his mouth. And I write these words because I too am a slave, a slave to my imagination toiling with the pen daily, just imagine the opportunities that will grow. And I write these words because my mind follows the path of the Underground Railroad and my thoughts are saying give us us free like Cinque.
And I write these words for those who have been slain in the Jewish Onslaught, for the Souls of Black Folk must go on not perceived as the Wretched of the Earth but as a people with the Audacity of Hope. And I write these words because Emmitt Till and Sean Bell both have untold stories. And I write these words and engrave them in my soul so no matter when my flesh goes the enduring spirit of the slave will not perish. And I recite these words for the many voices that still tremble through the trees cause their lives were lost on limbs, and I recite these words because the tongue has the power of life and death so I give life to the slave spirit and death to the mentality, life to the dream and death to the Willie Lynch curse. And I love these words and keep them near my heart for safe keeping “Free at last free at last thank God almighty Free at last”.
