THE TOKEN


Old saying once more being said:
first thought best thought,
off the top of one's head.

In spite of the fact
that the sun doesn't shine
and that the sky stares at me

with the biggest, dull gray,
cloud-covered eyes,
I'm still feeling fine.

In spite of the fact
that the rain's wet fist
is pounding my door

and that the wind is roaring
beneath my floor,
it is always the same

when the hand in my name
reaches out for the rim
of tomorrow's horizon.

It is true. It is true.
I am black. I am blue,
but I am not broken,

and hence I am able
to offer this poem to you,
as if it might be

my only token,
a mouthful of words
that must be spoken.