This poem was written by Obo Akin for Sundiata as part of the Sept. 22nd Day of Poetic/Hip Hop Action for Sundiata Acoli. It responded to the prompt Sundiata created called Senses of Freedom: “What would freedom look/smell/taste/sound/feel like after the revolution?”
P e r p l e x i t y o f D A R K N E S S
By Obo Akin
The passion for freedom
flows through my lungs like the waters of the Nile River,
flowing upstream from the heart of East Africa.
We are manifested dreams, shining in the darkness
of these wicked times like stars floating between time and space.
Plunging into the darkness of the universe was the decision
that lifted me higher than any religion could do;
Lifted to a higher vibration,
a new reality where black personifies
infinite possibilities
as opposed to cosmic infidelity and the ashes of our morality.
A new reality of infinite possibilities,
where black no longer represents
the shadow of the beast and his ministry.
No longer associated with penitentiary consensus,
I wiped the fog off my lenses,
used all of my senses plus my third eye vision,
to break down the bars of this illusionary prison.
The similarities of the struggles we share fall on deaf ears
and transcends past the consciousness of obsolete souls.
So we travel back in time like Sankofa, before Jehovah
became a factor in the fabric of our consciousness.
We rewind our souls to point zero in the placenta
at the center of our ancestral wisdom,
where universal rhythms circulate at the star gate of the dark Goddess’ womb;
the original holy temple, where simple melodies merge in oneness
to activate the memories of our solar prosperity.
Spiritual remedies,
served in abundance between
every stanza in a poem,
every breath beside a tree,
every bite into a fruit,
and the sight of the moon, hypnotizing the seas.
See, we are reflections of our ancestors,
our voices thunder with the force of Marcus Garvey’s voice.
We possess minds like Douglass and Toussaint,
Our words can heal like the songs of Bob Marley.
Eye and eye see the trouble humanity faces
As these warlocks in suits work rapidly,
To erase the traces of our divine existence yet
Resistance!
remains mandatory to alleviate ourselves from this social purgatory.
So we trade our war stories and our pain
in exchange for our freedom.
We ascend like the Rising Sun
And march the drums beating.
Yes, I am a reflection of my ancestors.
Their spirits are dancing in my genetics.
We’ve been genetically connected for centuries and ages,
tracing my DNA back to the days of the Khemetic sages.
Their spirit RAGES through us like the flames,
blazing down the bricks of New Jerusalem;
Raging! In the charismatic fire that El Hajj Malik El Shabazz walked in.
Raging! In the righteous anger that possessed Nat Turner when he revolted.
We rage through the pages of history, break down the cages of misery,
we tap into our Chi, so they will remember our ancestors vividly.
We step, we strut, with the strength
of one hundred black panthers,
the power of Toussaint’s army,
and the soul of Zulu tribe dancers.
We are the questions and answers to Earth’s greatest mysteries;
Original magicians and mathematicians,
channeling the Earth’s changing frequencies
through our arts and our crafts.
We use creativity to bring our glorious past
into present day fruition,
performing alchemy through our music and through our poetry.
Unfortunately,
This glorious past has become a distant memory,
leaving us to wander in perplexity of our reflections surrounding us.
Perception disorientated.
Deception unknowingly accepted,
but the essence of our past time perfections
has no expiration date.
Our essence exists in the eyes of the babies,
eyes that project pupils of innocence
and eyes that recognize the meaning of true bliss.
Our essence is personified as we wake and turn to the skies.
The Sun, the moon, the stars, and the Earth;
exercising the true essence of family values.
We give thanks to the fraternal energy of the Sun,
for every day we rise to that divine light
we are reminded of our true essence as men,
to stand boldly in the face of darkness and shine forth.
We give thanks to the maternal energy of the moon,
which works in harmony with Oshun
to harmonize the rhythm of the rivers;
calling her sister Yemaja from distant oceans.
We surrender our breathes collectively to the Creator’s mercy,
and trust in ancestral wisdom to dawn within us.