I've lately taken very much to heart a line from Derek Walcott.
The line is, how can I say I saw what occurred and said nothing?
And what I realize is that it is the purpose of a poet
to say something.
To hear what you listen, to see what you look at,
and to report, to witness.
But I'd like to start with a couple of new poems.
The first is called "Jasper Texas, 1998."
Does that ring a bell for anyone?
Now let me say I read this poem to a very good friend,
poet and white.
And he was disturbed by the poem.
There was a line in the poem that bothered him.
And I asked him, why does it bother you?
Why when you heard that line did you become white?
And he said, well, that bothered me too.
Which I thought was a good reply.
You may be able to recognize the line.
This is speaking in the voice of Mr Byrd.
Jasper, Texas, 1998.
I am a man's head hunched in the road.
I was chosen to speak by the members of my body.
The arm as it pulled away pointed toward me.
The hand opened once and was gone.
Why, and why, and why should I call a white man brother?
Who is the human in this place?
The thing that is dragged or the dragger?
What does my daughter say?
The sun is a blister overhead.
If I were alive, I could not bear it.
The townsfolk sing, we shall overcome,
while hope drains slowly from my mouth
into the dust which covers us all.
I am done with this dirt.
I am done.
Thank you.
[AUDIENCE APPLAUSE]
I don't mind if you don't clap.