Prayer to a Scream

“You cannot let race consume you. It will take over your poetry, and make it null and void.”
— as told to me by my college poetry professor, Laurence Lieberman

We lost
In the fire
Will find us
Through the ashes

By embers of memory
In the brilliant corners
Of our collective

Now, if only we could be post-racist
As a country. if only we could escape

The cage of condescending
Conformity with its pre-flawed
Laws of a politically polluted
Melting pot and its post-racial
Confearacy, feeling the light

That guides us through our darkest days
With faith in the fate of falling in love with the world
In spite of history; but, ’til the moment

When the rivers of hope and love converge
Flowing to the end of our spirits & the confluent
Ends of Earth, so all of the world can hear

Our waters, letting us know
That the mountain is no more
…we are only partially free.

©2019 MDSHall



I can hear colors.

I swear sometimes
I can hear
With my eyes, perceiving
Everything living
By the color
Of its soul.

I can see sound.

Even stone is alive.
To hear the landscape
Is like listening to a symphony
Playing in perfect harmony
With notes upon notes
Layered infinitely
Into an eternal matrix of song:
Each one a bloom, blade
Of grass or tree leaf, wading
And waiting in rays of day’s
Setting sun waving at itself
In a mirror of sea – all of them
Serenading our humanity.

This is our universe:
Sound penetrating matter, creating
Light, giving birth to love –
Love to the world, because there is
A song, sung into being, that is literally
Our DNA…and no one’s out of tune;
Though, we don’t always harmonize, and we definitely have our own
Idiosyncrasies. no one is out of tune.

Maybe offbeat, but not out of tune.

©2019 MDSHall


This old wary
Weariness is wearing on me,
So I fall back

On the works of warriors
& wordsmiths
Equipped with mother wit, not
Letting worry
Walk off with the youth

I have left.

©2019 MDSHall

Lift Every Voice

There’s no present like the time

…To raze the daze
Of yesterday’s mistakes
And discern the words
That conjure
The untold souls
Of the unspoken heard
Like drums forging forward
In hymns of the inner ear
Echoing visions
Of the voice within, lifting us
For the long haul
Out of the cacophony
Of urban sprawl
Into the harmony
Of our own antiphony
In writes of passage
Carrying on the conversations
Between creation and curation
That celebrate the incantations
Of life, above and beyond
Boundaries and categories…

Because, in lieu of our scars,
The scrolls of our souls
Render us whole and anew.

©2019 MDSHall. All Rights Reserved.

Parting of Time

Today remains a constant
Between creation
And curation,
In a world ever-changing
Imbued in hearts
And minds
As a parting
Of the lines
And the spaces in between

…And, even as shadows
In the rain
Careen like starships
Across a constellated canopy
In and out of sweet sorrow
As mere mementos
Of memory, we extol what
The soul ascribes to us
Tomorrow regardless

… Fate be damned.