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  • Writer's pictureAlyesha Wise

I know you see it.

all the men you thought “unbroke” themselves are leaving and

I'm pro’ly gon leave now, too, I know you thinking,


with deep, familiar scars, barks, backpacks, bars

climbed through your screens, seams, speakers, spoke to you

intimately, kissed your insecurities in ways that felt wild and loud, and ok, I know

example is a God, and we are missing so many of ours.


and I can't promise you no god, but I've met you before

can't promise another side, yet you’ve been there before

can say I’ve seen a heaven that has always been yours, and

Yesterday, and Dawn, and Always

are etched beneath chests of Black men fearing their own calling

for too many have been called gone.


and I can’t tell you your calling, but you’ve felt it before. I saw you on heaven’s block,

your next life clocked at the door

asked, where you going? your response, to give more.

and Yesterday and Dawn and Forever are etched

on the jaws of many men

whose deliberate tongues turn [anguish] into anthems, heartbeat

djembes drowning out the cancers. whole crowd

gathers to bathe inside your answers, but

very few listen, few follow intuition, and the drum

briefly numbs to the crowd of off-beat dancers, til the spinning spins again, everything

sings in sin, for the sky to sever itself for a savior,

unseen, slandered, serving up its body for the body

to remember

a love who breaks itself to challenge its surrenders.

and, someday, you’ll awaken inside

your own prayer.

and someday, one day, soon, We will all go there.

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