Fifty Years Later…Memphis to Auburn, a remembrance…a challenge…a re-commitment!

April 4, 1968, Lorraine Motel, Memphis, TN…the world lost a powerful monumental figure who influenced generations of people around the world. 

On this Wednesday, we commemorate the death of a pioneer for social justice, civil rights, and racial equality through nonviolence activism, and in doing so, we remember the assassination of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Decades ago more than once, aaduna’s publisher visited the Lorraine Motel, which had become part of the National Civil Rights Museum. He witnessed and gave testament to the unchanged room that Dr. King stayed in, and the infamous balcony that is burnt into America’s consciousness, serves as a juncture for the ongoing dialogue on race, and a pivotal “exhibit” for the museum.  As an added feature of today’s “Avenues on Wednesday,” a piece that bill berry, jr., as chair of the Harriet Tubman Center for Justice and Peace, wrote specifically for and initially delivered at a March 10, 2018 Harriet Tubman Prayer Service convened at Lakes Church in Auburn, NY.  That service extolled an activism of an earlier American social justice hero on the anniversary of her passing while celebrating and embracing the dedicated service of Auburn’s community leaders.

With that said, on this Wednesday, we present the work of Jeffrey-Paul Horn, an emerging and critical voice in contemporary poetry, who in the past year has seen his work published as a chapbook; read at several local, regional, and national poetry readings, and will have a full-length book of his poetry published in the near future. 

I

She wore a neon negligee

and smoked cigarettes

in synthetic scenes of splendor

sweating electric saline

through pours worn from worry

I tasted surrender as well as sunshine

in every sweet kiss

as she entranced me

in a dragon's sphere

of ecstasy

She led me to liberty

in the sands of disgrace

My heart fluttered

like the wings of a butterfly

as we danced

in pink and purple atmosphere

daring the unknown

harbingers of ancient ferocity

to look upon us in envy

II

We walked in wild oblivion

hand in hand

entrenched in a dimensional disarray

We were art

in the eyes of Santa Regina

in squalid tenements

deep in the eerie pastures of Eden

We had fallen

to earth

as angels

***

A wild dove dances

in spite of the raven's frustrations

It's feathers flap to the rhythm of the kings

and it's eyes reflect laughter

He knows the raven

He sings at his pain

Flying ever higher

over the ravens air

Taunting and teasing

always unaware

Light abounds

in life's golden bloom

The dove boasts it's glory

creeping closer to it's doom

Jeffrey-Paul Horn (photo provided)

Jeffrey-Paul Horn is an artist/poet born and raised in Central New York. He briefly attended the Art Institute of Pittsburgh. Mr. Horn has lived in many states, embracing and absorbing culture and art throughout his travels. Currently, he resides in Syracuse, NY and is a featured poet for Clare Songbirds Publishing House. 

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https://youtu.be/4hBln5hUnqo

bill berry, Jr., at the Community Prayer Service/Harriet Tubman Day, March 10, 2018 at Lakes Church, Auburn, NY

bill berry, jr. rarely seeks to present his work in public even though he has been published in a poetry anthology, a print publication, and digital journals.  Here is

See Me

{A prayer for equality}

I saw your spirit

Your ability to lead.

Your perseverance.

I witnessed the essence of your long remembered conviction to express your belief in God, and challenge authority with an unashamed vigor expressed by committed folks who walked in your path decades later.

I embraced the essence of how you gave of yourself, your willingness to put the welfare of others before your own, to trample over roads permeated by injustice, hatred, and subjugation.

I wondered why your legacy remained buried, ignored, unappreciated by the larger community until your emboldened spirit sparked economic possibilities and national attention. I let go of my jaded outlook and welcomed the recognition that heroes eventually garner from the larger society even if it is posthumously. 

I marveled at your strength of character and how your gifts of service to others, your love of others, your dedication to social justice and the eradication of racism, your concern for the less unfortunate, your strength of leadership, your conviction to protect and even sacrifice your life for others…your unabashed dedication to the elders of your community. 

I existed in your brilliance and courage.

I held close the torment, persecutions and hatred that rained on you during your lifetime.

I became stronger. More focused. More dedicated.

You made me a better person. And I never met you; knelt, as you gently rocked and told stories that marveled and ignited my imagination. 

I understood the annual pilgrimage by members of your church who bore witness to your work and the God that was yours and theirs in testimony and which still engulfs the lives and purpose of 21^st century people.

But the work remains unfinished over a hundred years later.

All I want, desire and deserve is for people to

See Me.

See my value as a human being, as a person whose culture and ethnicity has value.

See Me.

As a warrior for change and social justice in the Tubman legacy.

See Me as you see yourself…a person of integrity with an open and giving heart, with positive characteristics and skills that make me employable, and worthy of respect.  

See Me in the same way that you see your children. 

See Me with your protection, assistance, and guidance when I seek it.  When I seek it…

Get ready.

See Me…the values that I was taught by my guardians, my generations of grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, friends and strangers who helped me struggle against oppression, all forms of discrimination, and  enabled me to not succumb to violence even though liberty in this country is marked by armed revolution.

I was taught to do for self.

To not seek handouts.

To be independent and have strength of character and honesty in my convictions.

To not ask for much unless I was willing to work for what I wanted or needed.

To exist in the graces of Harriet Tubman.

See Me.

See Me and not what you think of me.

Just

See Me.

Copyright © 2018 William E. Berry, Jr.

*****

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