III.
Is going to be slow-singing
and flower bringing
If My burglar alarm starts ringing
is what the Notorious BIG said
and protecting his space
and all those in it
clocking these dollars
and not worrying about
who hollers—
at the same time
now we must celebrate
the death of the Only One.
the death of his blackness
the death of his heart,
his vision,
and what we celebrated
in him…
has now died.
because it is now died
there is no need for repass.
We saw this coming.
There is no need to mourn,
because even Mary and Martha,
when they fell at the feet
of the Master were
told that on the last day
that their brother
who had died,
Christ would raise!
They had faith. We do not.
the same God of the universe
who gave alphabets, dialects,
and dreams, muses and music
with visions of the ability
to count all the stars in the sky—
We close the casket.
We lower hope and faith
Into the earth so that
Blackness is all he will know.
But we go on because
there is work to do
work to be undone.
The betrayal most complete in death walking around, as if nothing is wrong.
all things Black, boy, and joy
being erased in favor
of the lies the Only One
and his fellow betrayers
have swallowed because
scraps from the masters’
table you deem better
than feasts in their own
houses warm with dark faces
Which open and grant peace,
….And yet his mother is dead.
The one who believed
in him first the
one who believed him last
in it is fitting that the last people
that believe in him
are both Black and woman.
did the space
with free thought
exist in the same plane
As whiteness?
Where your Blackness goes to die,
Surrendered to by
Those who only know
Lies and thievery?
We commit the Only One
To his mother, Donda—
Let her open her arms to
The Only One.
There is no room for mourning
for this is celebrated!
because now you have
gotten what you want—
And there is no way back.
No one to open doors,
wipe tears and
pour back into you
what the world strips.
The Jesus you walked with doesn’t know you.
That old song
says ‘diamonds are forever’
but yet with this
one now returned
to earth?
It was always coal.
Will be turning our eyes to the East,
lifting our heads up from which
Comes our help—
there is no morning for Mr. West.
-JBHarris
I Breathe Fire 