One year after Breonna Taylor's senseless murder, poet Bernadine "Dine" Watson pays tribute across space, time and sameness.
Poetry Corner
Do not remember me as a bridge nor a roof / as the maker of legends / nor as a trap
Now you understand / Just why my head’s not bowed / I don’t shout or jump about / Or have to talk real loud.
And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
I stand still above an island, fist straight in the air / Scar on my face, thick braids in my hair
Celestial choir! enthron'd in realms of light, Columbia's scenes of glorious toils I write.
We were running out of breath, as we ran out to meet ourselves. We were surfacing the edge of our ancestors’ fights, and ready to strike.
The Dying Words of Goethe “Light! more light! the shadows deepen, And my life is ebbing low, Throw the windows widely open: Light! more light! before I go.