ElevenEleven
I am born of the power and mystique
Of eleven
Born the eleventh day of the eleventh month
11 days before America’s great mourning
Before a ripped nation
would forever be severed
Born in the eleventh hour and only 120 seconds
After the eleventh minute
I am born of New Orleans
Oklahoma and Los Angeles
Of struggle and success
Marriage and separation
Divorce and devastation
I am born of revolutions
seeking solutions
To injustice and segregation
100 years after Emancipation
A nation steeped in sickness and hatred
Medgar Evers
President John F. Kennedy
And Four Little Girls
Dead
But of a King who would
March
Speak
Stand
For equality in our stead
He had a dream!
Will we let freedom ring?
I am born of a distant father
fighting in Vietnam
For a country that denied
His dignity because of his color
A father who sent letters
But rarely spent time
At the house he chose for my family
Where 3 bedrooms and 3 baths
Were as easy as warm waffles for us
With hopscotch and laggers
Barbies and Beany and Cecil
I am born of a gifted mother
Who balanced her cigarette on her lip
Like she balanced parenting and parties
A master of words, pools, and school
A teacher who never stopped learning
And made us beg for crossword puzzles
Boggle and Rummikub
A woman scorned but undefeated
Someone who lived with cancer
Like a warrior
Adjusted her armor and kept fighting
Until she was ready to be released
Into her ancestors’ arms
I am born of strong legs and working hands
Of bright smiles and freckles
I am born of tears that fall like rain
“As a joyous daybreak to end
The long night of captivity.”
I am born of African kingdoms and royalty
Of the Bantu and the Congo
I am born of a long lineage of power
I am born of God.
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