Josiah Jack
never uttered a sound
when they dragged him away
from the scene.
when his poor body
was eventually found,
the treatment endured,
had been mean.

With no tongue in his head
they had left him for dead.

With a month
on his back,
he did indeed
contemplate.
Only sin
“he was black”
hence forth
this weary state.

They attacked in the night,
hooded and white.

All in all
he was
lucky
to be
breathing at all,
all because
he was plucky,
all because
he stood tall.

A ***** they said
should lower his head.

Were they hooded
for fear?
Were they hooded
in shame?
Most likely,
once covered,
they could hide
of their name.

If things were so right,
why hide out of sight?

Bravery isn't
a word for the ****,
Cowards,
this word comes to mind.
Bravery comes
when there's only one man,
not one
with ten more stood behind.

I will strike in a pack
with someone watching my back.

Their plan
was to ****,
this man
Josiah Jack.
Perhaps they
get a thrill
when someone
cannot fight back.

They get real loud
when they join with the crowd.

Josiah
knew well
that if he
raised a hand
his kin folk
would feel hell
from this
unruly band.

So he did not fight
but gave in to his plight.

They think
they were hidden
beneath that
white hood,
Josiah's hearing
is sound
and his
memory is good.

So when things are forgot,
he will take of his lot.

That's exactly
what happened,
as they lay
in their bed.
The flames hurled
with fury
the sky
filled with red.

This man barbequed them like fish on a rack
and no one put it down to Josiah Jack.

One day you're here,
the next day there,
No connection
between the two
but you.

Not like a boat
leaving the dock
and having the
shorelines fade
slowly away

Not like an airplane
above it all
when it all becomes so
small,
Until landing
brings it back up
to size,
Not like that at all.

Not like watching
them waving,
Fading away
as you drive down the street.

Yesterday at work,
In love,
Home with your parents,
Your spouse,
Your children

Today it's not present at all,
Whole ways of being,
Don't dissolve,
The program changes,
Lights on,
Lights off,
Maybe a flash
in-between,
But that's all,
can you tell me, my friend,
What does it really mean?

Yesterday, today, tomorrow,
I guess we are not all three,
The present is not a flow.

Just you and me now,
As we go.

All is
this composition book
in front of me,
With one more period
to go.