Praying for a Miracle

By Rudolph Lewis

A day of chilling rain

now no leaf stirs

this silent night

sullen with the dark purple 

anxiety of Toussaint—

                       exalted Bonaparte

                               refuses to answer

                                            a letter from

the first of blacks

Miles’ delicate march

                    a concerto of fears

                              his intricate horn

                                      wisps of flamenco

& blue sketches

of Spain’s maracas

of desire

& racial conquest—

                  blood-dripping cross

                             & burning flesh,

                                     melancholy helmet

                                          & gunpowder terror

new world mysteries . . .

Who is ever ready

                     for the furious storm

                                     & the dungeon

of isolation

what eye fathoms

                      the millions of black souls

                                in the cold murky depths

                                                  of the shifting sea

pride & distrust

               a moment of fever

                         under a dome of judgment

I withdraw from contested ground

                              for the piercing smile of youth

& the chatter of birds

*   *   *   *   *

7 November 2003