This is a poem I like.
It is called "Slave Ships."
And I like to explain that I was reading something
about slave ships.
These are the ships, notice what I'm not saying,
these are the ships that went to the African continent
and brought back free people to this shore
where they were enslaved.
I am not saying it went to the African continent
and brought back slaves.
There's a difference.
Went to the African continent, brought
back people who were free, who had been freed,
and brought them here where they were enslaved.
Certainly not here but other places.
The names of these ships were because I
think things should be called what they are,
you know, like Amistad.
You know what Amistad means.
Friendship.
You know, can you believe that?
Now why shouldn't it be called like, your children are
in danger.
You know, everybody lock their window.
[LAUGHS]
Three of the ships about which I was reading,
one was called "Jesus," one was called "Angel,"
and one was called "The Grace of God."
And of course, many of these ships
were piloted by ministers; the man who
wrote "Amazing Grace" was the captain of a slave ship.
And that's why I think he probably knew a lot about grace.
I was certainly hoping for it.
"Slave Ships."
Loaded like spoons into the belly of Jesus,
where we lay for weeks, for months, in the sweat
and stink of our own breathing.
Jesus, why do you not protect us?
Chained to the heart of the angel, where
the prayers we never tell are hot and red
as our bloody ankles.
"Jesus," "Angel," can these be men who vomit us out from ships
called "Jesus," "Angel," "Grace of God" onto a heathen country?
"Jesus," "Angel," ever again can this tongue
speak, can these bones walk, "Grace of God," can
this sin live?"