Richard T. Beck

Another one of our Readers from the Monday Night POEMS FROM THE MOUNTAINTOP shared these poem of his.  Thank you for your craft, Richard!

“The River”

You are a River to your People

To a friend for his imprisoned son and all the Black Brothers who wade the draining tide

 

You are a river to your people;

counted amongst the names 

of those dead or alive, 

incarcerated;

stirring the alluvial carnage 

of a tentacled past;

Hung like Christmas ham

as homage for our harvest;

Up the Route 66 corridor 

you fled and leapt

‘cross snake soiled banks 

where cottonmouths 

spurned your holy step 

and drowned your dream in whimpers.

 

From Canaanite hills

to Babylon dreams, 

they deferred your Sargassian truth. 

We know their dream; 

their excess of love. 

The rod and the staff give comfort. 

The red rain  

stings a porous page

of diluted history.

The spiked word

vaults ‘cross your indigenous waves

where sunlit whispers

baptized under a whipping moon. 

A half eaten peach 

rides a naked current

and will not return.

 

The belly of Eve is bloated.

Her diasporian sin 

brings us to the river

and invites us get in,

and we, like Eve

weep salty tears

on brackish waters 

and wade the draining tide.

 

 

Rage, curse, and bless us now; 

beat hell out on the binding bar. 

You are a river to your people;

paid tribute for our sin, 

defiled by the cuffs 

that hold you back 

they have replaced

the stripes that bore your back

rage, curse, and bless us now; 

Mother Jones’ cookie jar is hidden 

and our belated, sugar-coated 

Mr. Goodbar consciousness 

oddly, sadly… bedridden.

used with permission

***********

“the last civil right”

 

we know their promise kept

god’s half or forty-acres

six feet of earth the equal measure met

our last civil right laid to rest

the dream deferred

on marbled stone

one color fits all our bones

used with permission