The Public Weapon (feat. DeJuan Gillespie)

We know the trickster is real. We are too familiar with his handiwork to doubt his existence. But what if the devil's greatest trick was convincing you that your power doesn’t exist? Making you believe the most dangerous tool in your arsenal is no longer effective. Tomorrow will soon be the past, so you have to decide. Are you built for life or are you only strong enough to die? You are under no enchantment. The weapon is real, the choice is yours.

Born with the spirit of the drum. Mother Earth’s daughters and her sons, came from different lands with different tongues. Set upon so viciously, taken by an unfamiliar enemy and transported to the unknown. In a floating death carrier, thinking back I wonder what was scarier? Confined with the tribes of warring areas, shackled by the legs fighting sickness and hysteria, banging on the walls to overcome the language barrier. The closest thing to burying us all alive. Away at sea, every fear was magnified. They let us sing, thinking we were pacified. Unaware the melody was just a rally cry. Boom boom, boom at a steady pace. We knew what it meant when that beat would accelerate. On the top deck make a break at the first mistake. Either cut their necks or we leap to the Gods’ embrace. If you can stand it, aware the very moment that we landed, our newest family would be disbanded.

But those who would make it, would maintain a bond that was sacred.A covenant of rhythm to escape with. All they heard was error, ignorance whatever. Gullah had a purpose our dialect was clever. Fighting was forbidden so we mastered capoeira, movement and music in symphony together. From afar we could strategize and break out because they hear the parts not the messages we take out. Shining stars used to guide us to a safe house, patterns in our braided hair would navigate escape routes.

Passing info to runners wasn't simple. Especially because it was unlawful to assemble. But surely as the wind blows, when that sorrow song hit crescendo, you knew to put that lantern in the window. Then hide me underneath the floor, quiet as a mouse sits, our communication kept the enemy confounded. Now we scream and shout it, everywhere surrounded, all available at the convenience of a mouse click. Pray we don’t forget the lessons, as everything evolves may we never lose the essence. Because even when the public hears the call, the power doesn’t lessen but the chain will never fall until the merging of it all is a weapon.