Wednesday, April 1, 2020

Dark Prophet Poetry Challenge Day 4: Behind the Door

i
Went down to the crossroads
With banjo in hand
Told my old lady
I’m going to see the man
Dressed in black and red
Cigar dangling in his mouth
A fist full of rum
Stank of that dirty, dirty south

I’ll call him by his true name
Elegbara of the path
If he accepts my chicken
Well now you do the math
Turning in a spiral
Kisses on the neck
Shouts to the heavens
He slips me a blank check

Cause I’m a holy roller
Got the mojo in my pouch
Yes I’m a holy roller
Not trying to be no slouch
Oh I’m a holy roller
Mojo in my pouch
I’m a holy roller
Not trying to be a slouch

ii
Now that the way is open
Broken bones
Everywhere
A death rattle
A baby chokes
An ICE agent turns away
A homeless family
Locked in cordoned white tape
Elegba in rags
Elegba in the soft skin of a babe
Elegba collapsed in ventilators
Elegba
In our sickness of greed
Warrior behind the door
When the streets of Yorubaland
Go silent
And South America bleeds capital
Can you take this offering
And tell our ancestors
We’re sorry
We didn’t mean to squander it all
And if we pour out a libation
Can you tell us the way home again?

ashe

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