Runako Jahi
.jpg)
Free like Willie
By Runako Jahi
17 December 1970
One hot summer day in a small Georgia town
me and my brother,Willie, were walking down a road, whistling.
It was a quiet, golden Sunday, where the wind blowed softly,
and you could hear the sound of the swaying leaves
flapping in the breeze.
Willie had just got outta jail and we were goin' to town to celebrate!
Mama and Daddy were so happy to have him back, they sent for all our kinfolk
so we could have a big ole party later on that evenin
All he did to go was to say "NO" to a store clerk who wanted him to lick
gummed labels to stick across jars.
Willie didn't want to lick nobody's doggone labels and he told him so!
As we walked up the road, a truck drove up to us with grinnin'
Redneck farmers who were laughin' at us.
They called us, "Coons!" and "Jiggaboos!" but we walked on like
They wasn't there.
One of them got out and grabbed Willie by the neck, and Willie tried his best to knock the hell out of him!
The man fell, and Willie started runnin'--runnin' like a fool 'cause that whole truckload was after him!
Run, Willie! Don't let those rednecks catch you! You know what they gon' DO to you if they CATCH you! Run, Brother, RUN!
Willie had disappeared somewhere and the sound of laughter had stopped.
They didn't FIND Willie!
Shooooooot--he's in them fields somewhere HIDIN' from them crazy rednecks!
I'm goin' to find him and bring him on home!
"Oooooohhhh--weeeeee! WILLIE? Mama done made us some o' dem good ole peach pies an' chicken 'n' dumplins! And ooooooohhh-WE!
Why don'tcha come out here so we can get on HOME? Willie? WILLIE?"
When I finally found him, he was hangin' from a tree, just softly spinnin', with his face a jet black, his tongue hangin' and his eyes bulgin', and he
never got a chance to see Aunt Ida and Uncle Lo,
and he never got a chance to taste Mama's peach pies.
"Awhhhh, Willie... Why you let them DO this to you? LOOK at you! All messed up.
What's Suzie Mae gon' say?"
Oh, my God, Willie, my God.
___________________________________________________________________________
NOW Is The Time
By Runako Jahi
December 31, 2005
Now is the time to rock and roll.
Because every day we just get old;
The winds of Life are hot and cold,
At times a whisper, at times quite bold.
Now is the time to rock and roll.
A time to run, a time to stroll;
A time to meditate in the Sun.
A time to watch children have fun.
A time to reflect on your numerous styles;
A montage or eras that elicit smiles.
The times of wild and wooly hair,
The times of acting upon a dare.
The times of strutting your powerful stuff;
The times of fearlessness when things were rough.
The times of marching, Black and proud!
The nights of partying and talking loud.
The days just innocently pass away.
“Just keep on living,” the elders say.
You’ve moved from a baby’s clumsy walk,
To a know-it-all teenager’s sassy talk.
You must sing your song and dance your dance,
Wear nice clothes and strut and prance!
The clock is ticking—no time to wait!
Make it happen before they close the gate!
Before your skin goes from silk to leather—
Before your spirit floats light as a feather!
From the refrain of the birthday song,
To a preacher’s eulogy, spoken long;
Folks gather and partake in rituals and such
Investing their time and celebrating much,
For your memories, they cry yet cheer
For thoughts of you they hold so dear.
So when we face that approaching hour,
Don’t lament because you lived a life gone sour.
Make Life happen before it takes its toll.
Now is the time to rock and roll!
_________________________________
The March Continues: or Being Colored Ain’t Left Us
By Runako Jahi
29 December 2000
The march continues
As we strive to have clarity in a world of changes
And confusion.
The march continues
Because after decades of struggle, this thing within us has not decided to be free.
Ultimately, the dark ones and the light ones,
The educated ones, the downtrodden ones
The loyal ones, the neutral ones,
The house Negroes,
The field Negroes, will all decide that enough is enough!
Denmark Vesey tried to tell it.
Frederick Douglass tried to tell it!
Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth!
Zora Neale Hurston, W.E.B. DuBois!
Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X!
Martin Luther King, Jr., James Baldwin!
James Weldon Johnson! Humph! Even Muhammad Ali!
Some of our Mamas and Daddies,
Uncles and Aunts even tried!
They tried in vain to crack that Consciousness Block,
To penetrate that colored nerve and turn it black.
But that colored nerve is strong.
Even after it’s been whipped, lynched, burned, raped, drowned, imprisoned,
It stubbornly refuses to see the picture.
It still wants to be universal and colorless, estranged
And cultureless.
That colored nerve is still standing on an auction block in Hollywood movies!
On Broadway stages, on the TV sets, on basketball courts!
Trumpeting those who gleam in their non-threatening coloredness, those who don’t WISH to be IDENTIFIED as BLACK!
Yet, somehow, THEY can be forgiven.
Some of us are still marching.
Marching to validate.
To be our authentic selves!
To help the colored people
Realize that it’s okay to be black.
Black and ready.
Black and powerful.
To survive in strength!
To reflect Triumph
In the sheer beauty
Of knowing who we are!
The march continues.
The march continues.
It continues, in spite of Negroes waving flags!
It continues, in spite of integration!
It continues as long as we see ourselves as a part of what we are really NOT a part of!
And one day, as Donny Hathaway says, “Take it from me, someday we will be free.”
MAYBE, if we open our eyes—
MAYBE, if we support ourselves—
MAYBE, if we accept our worth—
MAYBE, if we THINK about it,
But the march continues.
It continues
As long as we remain colored!