Squeezed between the clicks of metals colliding and the soft thumps of water against slave ships

we swallowed our drumbeat on foreign waters and concealed it in our womb to preserve our boom and our clack.

We believed it was safe

Yet, white man sins and greedy hands heard the loud thumb [boom clack boom clack] radiating from our pores. He ached to locate our drum beat

so he searched, probed,and located our hiding place

that day, they say, white man attempted to take our drumbeat.

laid on earths floor, he invaded our gates and his soldiers laid claim to our womb

see, he unlaced our fine cow skin perfected by centuries of African drummers

he attempted to carve his memory into our wood

yet he forgot that tin cans and propane tanks beat just as loud

so we turned to garbage fields to salvage our beat

We began to  move our drumbeat from our wombs to our feet.

Hoping the grass that surrounded our feet would preserve the memory

We ran to taps, silent drum calls, and negro hymns

we believed it was  safe

 

However, earth’s horn was being silenced.

Cracked, burned, and stumped over, her war cry went unheard

we couldn't prepare for the impending battle

The grass began to shrivel as concrete washed over mother nature’s sky

our drum beat was locked in the concrete jungle

it lay stagnant

See, America you tried to steal our drum beat

But we breakdanced and beatboxed. spinned and twirled trying to unleash the drumbeat underneath the cardbox.

Broken and shattered, our beat re-surfaced [boom, clack, ahh, clack, clack]. We cradled it our palms and stored it under gold chains and African print tops

We believed it was safe

Yet white man changed. Metamorphosed into white substances for black man escape.

Our beat began to thump irregularly [Boom boom clack, boom boom]. Gone was the soft thump of ocean waves and unlaced djembes

Our beat now swayed  within the realm of crack highs

Our bodies were broken, wombs bare, hymns unlaced, feet callused, gold chains colored green

Black man you tried to run away from your  drumbeat

Yet as our high settled, we rushed to store our irregular beat

Stored in crack babies eyes, our beat now drops with every unshed tear and is mixed with every war cry

see our culture is alive