Photo by Alice Walker

Sometimes I Just Thank God I’m Black

And Call It a Day

Copyright 2018 by Alice Walker

No, I’m thankful for the constant
Give and take I have with Creator,
And by Creator
What else could I mean
But the Sun?  The real reason
We are taught to pray looking
In that direction.
They slapped a man who looked
Like them
On top of the sun
And made us worship him.
But never mind!
Here I’ve been in this hot climate
Only a month
And I am as dark
As my black father
Ever was.
What magic is this?
It is because my Creator
Is always there
When I am most in need
Of love.
And there’s no doubt
That this Creator
Loves chocolate.
What must it be like to have lost
This affirmation?
Cheddar Man in England,
10,000 years old, was black.  His descendants
from lack of sun
became white. They can’t deny
he is an ancestor, but they have rushed to give him
blue eyes and fling
a straight wig
on his reconstructed head!
Oh, to miss the point so badly!
And to be on our way out.
The Hopi and the Ancient Africans,
Or the Hopi who maybe once were Ancient Africans
Tell us this planet doesn’t mind
Destroying itself, and has done so regularly
In the deep past.
We are on the 4th world
Within human reckoning. The 5th world,
So far in the future we cannot even imagine it,
Is nonetheless, looming.
Our situation is dire, but with nuclear poisoning
Already affecting much of the planet
The demise of our species
Might be good news.
What of the world
Looks now
As though
It might be saved?
Or saved, but only to suffer?
The old record keepers,
Whose stories most of us do not know,
Tell us there are always a few of us
Who remember to be thankful.
But most have forgotten, if they ever knew,
That there’s anything specific
To be thankful for.
You’d think they couldn’t miss
At least one obvious gift,
Since it is the Sun.
But that’s our dilemma:
We can be deluded
About anything.  The most obvious truth
Can miss us by a mile
Or billions of space miles.
For instance, Creator Sun
gave earth’s most sun drenched children
nappy hair to form a loving cover
for their heads. To protect us!
Our praise for this – except during
The Sixties-
has been faint.  Our bad.
It is no small miracle to feel
The call and response
With Creator,
Rising as it does
In such glorious splendor,
Every morning of every day;
To revel in its generosity,
Just as do trees, oceans, orchards,
Butterflies, bees.  Edible plants.
And of course Flowers, spectacularly.
For those who need something beyond
Or above the sun
To pray to
Rest assured
I also am happy
To bow to it.
Thank you is after all
Everything that Mystery needs.
Though not really.
The Great Mystery
goes its way without a care
for our opinion.
Even our thank you
is for us.