NYU Black Renaissance Noire NYU Black Renaissance Noire V. 16.1 - Page 83

oh singing road of destiny, blanket of night whispers rose essence and spirit hum talking wood and flame-dancer street theater and heart sport music oozing from each breath kissing our ears like angels the sacredness of strife take time and give it to others take time and give it to others the eyes look inward as the story is told voice painted in the dignity of old photographs we have seen blood on the piano keys cobalt blue chains, slurred notes 81 BLACK RENAISSANCE NOIRE i am Horace Tapscott my fingers are dancing grassroots i do not fit in form, i create form my ears are radar charting the whispers of my ancestors i seek the divinity in outcasts, the richness of rebels i walk these sacred streets remembering kola nuts and cowrie shell and how well our uncles wore their trousers i am Horace Tapscott and i am not for sale