I’ve Come Through by Kesau’c N. Hill

I’ve come through a long line of griots

and women warriors who danced beneath

the sun; a circle of angels, and swaying hips,

heart beats to the djembe drum.

I’ve come through.

Generations of spoken word, long histories &

philosophies by firelight among the trees,

rooted to where our ancestors be and working

out our spirituality

I’ve come through.

Being hauled by the neck, shackled and

cut at the quick. Chained by another’s

twisted ambitions, christened then force

fed unnatural shit.

I’ve come through.

The ambrosia of a mother’s kiss after long

days spent in cotton fields helped to build

the heart that got us here like the blood of

my fathers that brought us here.

I’ve come through.

Long boat rides and auction blocks to

long bus rides hauled off the blocks to

become livestock held up in cell blocks;

caught up in time like time’s been caught.

I’ve come through.

A Panther’s hope in the community to

black dragons spitting fire politically,

seriously, learning what it means by any

means necessary.

I’ve come through.

A pestilence of drug abuse that’ll eat

away the love in you but forgiving is what

lovers do, what better way of loving you?

What better way to get us through?

I’ve come through a long line of griots

and women warriors who danced beneath

the sun; a circle of angels, and swaying hips,

heart beats to the djembe drum.

Dedicated to my uncle, the late Gary Williams Sr.

© Kesau’c N. Hill

Excerpt from the book Serengeti Noise

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About the Author

Kesau’c N. Hill is an ex-gang member who, at the age of sixteen, was convicted of murder and sentenced to serve 15-years to Life in the California Department of Corrections. Fighting became a lifestyle that would accompany the gang world deathstyle. However, he would soon be mentored by an English teacher named John Murphy who saw past his tough guy exterior into something explosively creative.

He introduced him to the art of poetry and the power of the spoken word. He’d use that power to his advantage when his life serving Life became too difficult to bear. By defiantly writing poetry all over his prison cell walls “meaning” and “Passion” was discovered, hope and a sound vision was realized. Quite literally, poetry saved his life.

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