They came from the deep
looking for the dignity they’d been denied, they came
looking for the humanity that had been stolen
with suitcases full of moth-eaten dreams
that life could be better, that black of skin
didnt mean black of soul, and that a man
could be a man, instead of a gray-bearded boy
They came from the deep to the windy place
where the trees blow and it’s cold, so cold
playing in their projects, children schooled
in all their primary colors and imitated cruelties.
All too soon the holes were exposed
enormous beauty steps away from the seedy
and still they came, til lost in the cracks and weeds
they fall down, down
The young men first, quarter-century a ripe old age
three decades free and unburied is a notable achievement
The little mothers trail in their wakes.
Back then, they came up north from the deep to the windy place.
They found it cold. So cold.