he screamed truth at the walls
                                         raging
a Joshua of trumpet throat
cutting
carving
sculpting cold stone
into forms fluid
              curving
&           triumphant
bulging the box
with his sphere of power
                        influence

dwindling
to fierce whispers
sparking
igniting the dark
echoing the light
within his enforced night
beneath the dungeon
of his captor’s imagination

he
another dark sun
unbowed
unclouded
and now, by self-doubt
unshrouded

once fearful of peering into his own eyes
      made comfortable with the lies
but wisdom survives,
and in his solitude
from attitude
he forged resilience,
acknowledging flaws
& built upon experience

harnessing pressures crushing his soul
he compressed his black
and became diamond whole

his moon did not share his crypt
she faced her deadly destiny
pounded with predictions of her doom
and of those from her womb

yes, she cried
but a righteous rage built up inside,
and soon her captors found her fortified,
for even in darkness
           without books,
she learned from her dreams
     listened to ancestors’ whispers
     awakened comatose memories
of warriors and builders
                                 undefeated
                                 reborn within

his heart became a fist
he ceased his screaming
harnessing his surging passions
                    frustrations

the constant inundation —
                                      of brain beatings
                                         mind manglings
&                                      rapes of his sodomized heart
slowly shrank into unconscious white noise
                         surf feebly splashing his promontory will

he stared into the night
his gaze turned within
his rage focused,
he felt the ritual begin
his words of truth
                 outrage
                 rebellion
transformed
echoing chants of power
                    immune to ice
                    calling the knowing
his fight was not without
or                    without price
but within
      inside his skin

he embraced the night
    did not miss the light,
knowing the sun was not lost,
just resting beyond the horizon
and, like him, soon to rise

her heart felt his fire
her soul his embrace
bound by blood
             will
&          spirit
they knew distance could not divide them
              incantations of doom could not defeat them
only they could conquer themselves

lost in labyrinths of lies and deceit
drugged on powders white
&            powers vain
the once mighty had been broken again

finally,
his will breached the box
her heart reached through the wall
in union
they stood
              free
              bathed in midday sunlight
                        in the depths of midnight
              steeled in their knowing
              unabashed in their glowing
                                                   an embrace at once deeply Black
&                                                a brilliant beacon in the night

by

jamal
ali

© 23 january 2002

my heart is a well
                a storehouse of memories
                an archive of the wanderings of my timeless soul
                a universe of existence
                               of lives and events

                a symphony of emotions
                                 of sorrow
                                 of joy

my heart is a flute
and I breathe music
songs of longing for what was
and                             is yet to be

the longing
the search
and unfinished, the sorrow
yet ever certain of its final joy

the drive within me blazes
dim now
bright then
a surging will which knows no end

my heart is a flute
my breath music
and this wandering soul sings the opera in his eyes

raising
rising
from sub to superconscious
from ages of slumber
             too many to number
awakening finally to a wholeness of Being
recognizing within
the completeness I’ve been seeking

my heart is a saxophone
and I breathe melodies
a musical melting of joy into sorrow
a lyrical jazz for traveling the spheres

in my library of livesI have known great beauty
and colossal rage
                  pain
                  shame
                  birth
                  death
                  joy and ecstasy which knew no bounds

these are memories
             not fantasies
but flesh and bone and throat-tightening thrill
full of sound and color and images keen
from pulse-racing moments
to the calm and serene

my heart is a drum
and I am walking rhythms
steps in the cycle of an evolving soul

the free flight of the eagle
a dolphin’s glee
the stride of the lion —
all are part of me
the struggling emergence of the butterfly
I know all too well
I am living it in the moment
as I emerge from my shell
wolfsong, coyote howl
the deadly silence of the serpent’s prowl
the thunder heard from buffalo and elk
I know these
I have been these
and so love them as myself

like the wise elephant
my breath is music
all memory
every part of me
is an instrument
for this wandering spirit
all is orchestra —
each heart a rhythm
and every soul a song

my heart is a flute
and I breathe music
and along the path of this wandering soul
the songs are finally joyous
and my Being whole

by

jamal
ali

©  20 march 1994