Dew and ink

Hail him next, 
Maelstrom X,
O, nexus of our turbulence!

X best reflected
the place on the map
the treasure ought to have been.

But the land, as the politics,
was dyed ‘Manifest Red,’ those days
already plundered of all its gold.

Called was he to a stiff-necked nation,
Malcolm came to

a City-on-a-Hill, yes,
but gentrified.

He was Living and Active,
sharper than any double-edged sword.
able to separate bone from marrow.

So Detroit Red (PBUH) said
Surah Al-Kafirun  
to the Red, White, and Blue.
and made himself
a Stranger in a Strange Land.

Was it naive to hope
judgement was ‘to run

      down
          as waters’
on America?
righteousness
       ‘as a mighty
           stream?’

not the trickle
     of crimson,
not the river
     of blood spurting
from the breast of America
      ‘s own Moses,
plaguing a people, not yet
      free.

All the while, in the heart of America lies
a mess of metal:

Some ad-hoc, indeterminate mess
fit only for a spiritual identity crisis-

First swords,
     then ploughshares,
then swords again…

Our nation’s Islah
now nonviolent
now forceful,

All the while, in the heart of Malcolm lies
a mess of metal.