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Greetings, re-membering a poem by Claude McKay …..” If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursed lot.
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
So that our precious blood may not be shed in vain; then even the monsters we defy shall be constrained to honor us, though dead!
Oh kinsman! We must meet the common foe;
Though far outnumbered, let us still be brave,
And for their thousand blows deal One deathblow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but……….fighting back!2 Comments-
179,308
Abibitumi Points
I do remember that poem. Very apt.-
179,308
Abibitumi Points
Nana Amos N. Wilson: The Battle Must Be Joined!!!
No nation, no civilization has come to the fore
Without new organization
Without thinking new thoughts
Without working
Without actually doing
Without being willing to take a chance
A willingness to risk all
Without a willingness to go against overwhelming odds
Without a determination to be the best, to be superior
Without a desire to determine its destiny and that of others
Without a willingness to fight, to shed blood, to risk defeat
The battle must be joined…
It must be fought
Be it a battle of the mind, mind wars of spirit,
Of will, of bucks, of iron and steel, shell and bomb,
Of tank and plane, of rockets and satellite star wars,
Of technology, of information
The battle must be fought
The gauntlet thrown down
The chip knocked from the bully’s shoulder
The lines stepped over The clash and clang of sword curses of men, moans of pain
The battle must be joined…
Fought in the street from door to door
In the school room, in the boardroom
In the bedroom, in the war room
Hand to hand combat must commence
The battle must be ultimately won in the field
It matters not if you can eruditely delineate the subtleties and nuances of racism, and racial discrimination
If you can delicately dissect with a master surgeon’s skill the anatomy of race and the body politic
If you can tease out the tiniest thread
If you can paint the most beautiful dream on canvas
And write the greatest vision on parchment
Or ride in your time machine and visit ancient African kingdoms, cities, and empires
Or feel the pain and degradation of slavery
Or celebrate all we have given to the world
Or point out with great exclamation the white Devil
Still the challenge must be taken up
Fire must fight fire
Institutions, traditions, habits, hopes must be uprooted,
Razed and put to the torch
No stone left unturned
And institutions, traditions, habits, hopes must be restored, rekindled or built anew
Bricks stacked in place
New songs must be sung New voices must carry the tune
New feet must march to new drumbeats
New hands, new banners and standards raised
These songs must be your songs
The voices your voices, the feet your feet
The hands must be the ones at the ends of your arms
The soul unsold to the devil must be your soul
A new world must be created
Make it your world.
Amandla!
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