Shoutout to Gwendolyn Brooks (whose style I'm imitating in this poem...)
New Progress
And still we march in all black, progressing
Against the music of generations
Fed on the prejudice of mothers who
Keep pain warm like breast milk for dark infants.
Still we don the colors red black and green.
Still we salute the flag red, white, and blue,
Revere the stripes, look longingly, pray
For safety as those who also prayed, sang.
But inward boils a new power, an awe.
No fear, a growing fulfillment burns hot.
For even if we end up losing out
How shall they deny, back stepping; and how
Close the doors? Push, push. The sound
Of echoed chains remain. And again free.
Copyright A. Davis
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