'A closed window looks down
on a dirty courtyard, and Black people
call across or scream across or walk across
defying physics in the stream of their will.

Our world is full of sound
Our world is more lovely than anyone's
tho we suffer, and kill each other
and sometimes fail to walk the air.

We are beautiful people
With African imaginations
full of masks and dances and swelling chants
with African eyes, and noses, and arms
tho we sprawl in gray chains in a place
full of winters, when what we want is sun.

We have been captured,
and we labor to make our getaway, into
the ancient image; into a new

Correspondence with ourselves
and our Black family. We need magic
now we need the spells, to raise up
return, destroy,and create. What will be

the sacred word?

by Amiri Baraka

Comments (1)

Lela, I like what you have done here. This use of the sonnet is well executed. A change in the argument usually takes place in the ninth line or thereanouts but you leave it to the final couplet and it works well. Normally I crige at the rhyme of 'flowers' and 'hours' but I think you make it work well here.