this ended up being part prose/part poetry. prosetry, really.





From the start, there was a familiarity that went beyond us sharing the same birthday.

You see, there was a time when our blood sang the same songs. My forebears were once the white and native engineers on Michigan's underground railroad. Though this memory has fled my kin's waking thoughts, it still lies coiled tightly in my dreams and DNA.

Sugar, I'd say, Listen closely, for my blood still beats in the key of revolution.

Sha-clack-clack.

His is the legendary Lansing family that sang hymns with Medgar Evers and Malcolm X, trilling their visions in three-quarter time.

No more shall they in bondage toil,
Let my people go,
Let them come out with Egypt's spoil,
Let my people go.

And when we clasped hands upon meeting, we touched both for the first time and the ten thousandth.