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    Poetry: This Fire Must Burn
    Posted on Tuesday, November 14 @ 01:42:25 UTC by admin

    Dreadlocks By Ras Tyehimba
    April 21, 2003

    The wind must blow
    The river must flow
    The pages of history must turn
    The fire must burn
    This fire must rage until it reaches of age
    Where it mellows into a smoldering coal
    Providing sparks through the wisdom of the old
    Glowing so softly that fools think that it is out
    But the spear of the nation is alive and burning
    In the very few or us that are flying

    Don't you see that the tide is turning
    Do you see consciousness slowly growing?
    Do you see truth spreading? Slowly but surely
    Where are you heading?
    Down the road of carnal gratification?
    Can money buy salvation?
    Can the car I'm driving, the life I'm living
    make me forget my divine self; that I'm black?
    Must I just stay silent in the back
    And do nothing while you attack... me?

    My Afrikaness is not a badge of servility
    But rather a fiery banner for uncompromising revolutionary activity
    The spear of the nation is burning
    The tide is turning

    Have you forgotten the mother that raised you
    have you forgotten the mother that raised you, while others slaved you
    have you forgotten the mother that praised you when others cursed you
    that appreciated you while others hated you
    that nursed you while others wanted to hearse you
    our loss of history has caused us to lose sight of our divine destiny
    but hope is alive, lying among our conscious elders who like a smoldering coal
    will provide the knowledge to unfetter our soul
    and spark the fire that will take us higher
    who is the ember who will make us remember
    that we used to traverse the universe

    Let us delve into the sea of our consciousness
    Out of this sacred union of male and female energy cometh life
    Let us arm ourselves with this key of life
    The exploding drum dissolves in vibrating forces of energy
    Yellow meets blue, making green
    Out of Nature come cometh red, blood, red and passionate
    A red drop of truth, meeting the beating heart of ourselves
    Flowing like the tears that have gathered for years.
    Knowing that i will never die, I fly
    And why must I fly?
    Because... The wind must blow
    The river must flow
    The pages of history must turn
    This fire must burn....................

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