Your words are sweet, magnificient
your words are strong, militant
Your words flow like rivers
endure like mountains
Your words shake foundations
and upset notions

But with all our verbal postulence, 
poetic eloquence
and linguistic excellence, why are we still.....

Still

The beauty of the wave is in its crashing
the beauty of the dance is in its passion
The beauty of the cause is in the reaction
The beauty of the thought is in the action

The words tickle the ear
vibrate through the atmosphere
though they be as deep as the ocean
and as complex as the transverse universe
bringing forth deep emotion, they are missing


Motion


The black poet, preachers, teachers send out verbs, 
adjectives and exclamations 
for their own and others exultations
but as a people we remained stationed
still,
devoid of will, full of words, 
not understanding, embodying or employing the verbs

what good is all our raw talent,
urban edged verbal swords,
black woman essence, 
black god omnipresence waxing profane, 
we are still insane,
We have waxed freedom 
and revolution for four centuries 
and still have not completed the dance
content with the talk
afraid of the walk


Our words are motionless
God expects better from us!