Homage to the Homeless Souls of New York City

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Cry, my beloved city for the homeless souls on the streets where you live.
(22x38 - Cut designer paper and photographs; hundreds of pieces.)

The 5th Day of the First Week of the Last Month of the Year 2017

A little boy was given a seed by his mom to plant in her vegetable garden.

Let’s say – a tomato seed.

The little boy gleefully planted his seed and watched over the patch 

of ground with tender care – watering and watching each day 

with childlike anticipation and great expectation for a sign 

of the tomato plant to push up from the soil.

Days and what seemed an awfully long time to the boy went by

with no sign of the plant’s growth.

So he dug up the earth where the seed had been planted – 

to see what had happened to his prized seed. 

Why hadn’t the seed grown he wondered?

Well, lo and behold! In the midst of the soil was a sprouted seed 

with thin spindly roots jetting out and taking root.  

The little boy jumped for joy at this marvelous revelation. 

He hurriedly re-buried the seed, careful not to harm a smidgeon of the seedling.

Over the next days, each morning he went out into the garden 

to check on his seed, watering it and hovering over it like a mother hen – 

knowing that soon – a sign would appear and a sprout would come forth 

heralding his seed had turned into the beginning of his awaited tomato plant.

And suddenly early one morning there it was – 

a stem rising up out of the earth soil.   Ah... the little boy was overjoyed. 

His plant continued to grow strong and sturdy under his careful tending

and it grew to bear delicious fresh fruit for the supper table. 

All the family marveled at the bounty from his small tomato seed.

NOTE the lessons here.  Even when you can’t see it, the seeds 

which you plant are taking root.

Tending the soil is pertinent – giving nurturing care is a requirement – 

with hope and anticipation that your seeds planted in fertile ground 

will bear fruit and you shall reap the rewards of your labor. 

No matter how long the time seems long.

By the way the little boy in the story was my friend James Lee. 

I may have taken a few liberties in telling his story, 

but he has never forgotten the teaching,

and it is seemly that God would give him the revelatory sowing lesson of seed week.

Thank You Father for Your bountiful gifts.

HATE IS DESTRUCTIVE

Hate is destructive
no matter who hates
who you hate
why you hate.

The role of hate
is to bend
to break
to destroy
to tear down
to bind.

No good thing comes from hate.
The seeds of hate
bear the fruits of its kind.
It blinds
it confines.
It eats away at the mind.

It is not meant to placate,
and it sure isn't eating cake.

("The mind is a terrible thing to waste")

R.I.P. Brother Gregory - The power of your words continue to resonate.

James Baldwin James Baldwin

(Yesterday I went to see the documentary film by Raoul Peck
which shares the last penned notes by James Baldwin,
"I Am Not Your Negro."
I sat through it twice and look forward to seeing it again.
I could have bottled the film up and brought it home with me.
James Baldwin has been my writer hero since I discovered him
at the age of 18.
I wrote about his impact on me in my memoir, "Ruth."
A few years ago I wrote the poem which follows.
It is included in the memoir and in my collection of poetry,
"Sunlight on the River."
I am sharing it on my blog at the urging of my dear sister-friend, Genera.
I sent the poem to her in an email last night.  She shares my love
for Jimmie and once gave me the wonderful biography on Jimmie
written by David Leeming, as a birthday gift.  It is a treasure.
The film does great honor to him and I am very proud to know
and love my dear precious brother man, Mr. James Arthur Baldwin.

   

  James Baldwin

   preacher teacher

   born in - Another Country

   where the ghetto weeps.

   James Baldwin

   fighter writer

   who - Knows Your Name in the Street?

   Sweet lover Jimmy B.

   who dared to enter – Giovanni’s pain,

   and learn the lessons of loneliness and fame.

   James Baldwin

   Mr. Spokesman

   thank you so much for speaking

   for having been here

   on this – Mountain

   among the forerunners who taught us to

   “sing of the agony of life”

   and to rid oneself of hate and strife.

   James Baldwin son of the sun

   who shined his light on this tree.

   My hero in – The Amen Corner,

   prophet of – The Fire Next Time,

   witness to the truth with the mission won

   to pass on the wisdom – Notes of a Native Son.

   James Baldwin

   my love

   that never dies.

   And my love you are.

   Though you have gone on -

   To Meet The “Master” Man,

   you have left a great legacy bed

   that I keep – Just Above My Head.

   And so I celebrate you

   Mister James Baldwin.

   Thank you

   for teaching me to see to speak to listen to love

   to hear to know

   that the pen is mightier than the sword,

   that passion and pain

   can bring about change

   no matter – How Long the Train’s Been Gone.

   You will always be remembered by me,

   My sweet James Baldwin

   Jimmy B.

(“Art hurts, Art urges voyages –

   and it is easier to stay at home.” Gwendolyn Brooks)