Gave up her dream to play classical
music on the big stage
Child prodigy at three
So much time invested. Isolated herself
Caught up in her fantasy world. Her friends
Were Bach, and Beethoven and occasionally
Brahms and Debussy.. She’d spend hours fostering a
Relationship with them only to find out that
There were forces outside of her that
Wouldn’t let her run free.
She could withstand the ridicule but never
Did she imagine that her dream wouldn’t
Become a reality…….because of her skin
Played by the rules, didn’t understand that
There was a different standard for Blackness…
And then………September 15th, 1963 happened…..
Four little girls died that day
Taking her head out of the clouds she began
To see things in a different light.
It became evident to her that she needed
To dream a new dream – not Martin’s dream
Four little girls died that day
And she got mad!!! No longer dreaming in
Color – her dreams came to her in black and
White.
She began to sing with a different tone.
Love songs no longer light and airy but
Dark and daunting…..”I put a spell on you”…..
Love for one became love for many, her
People dying in the streets.
She took off her wig and looked in
The mirror….undeniably she recognized her blackness
And was proud of it. To be young, gifted and black!
Four little girls died that day
Her heart broke, she
Cried for those girls, who would never
Become women. New day dawning
“Everything must change”…….
Four little girls died that day
She needed to honor their memory. She longed
To speak out – somebody had to hear her…..
Somebody had to sit up and take notice
She poured her soul into her music “Mississippi
Goddam!!” She began to sing about that
“Strange Fruit” those trees were bearing.
Her soul began to ache. Her tears dripped
blood tears……
Nina, not so angelic, not so sweet and gentle
She got mad.
Her quest for freedom started boiling up
Inside her. What about the girls? what about
Medgar Evers? what about all the injustices?
Someone had to tell the stories. No time for
Waiting, what were we waiting for?
Four little girls died that day…..
And how many girls since then, the souls and
Spirits of so many lives taken…..she longed
For freedom to be able to fly above the polluted
Air that was choking and killing her, killing her
people……..
She couldn’t run from it, as long and as hard
As she hit those piano keys, things stayed the
Same. No more playing in major keys,
Minor keys became her mantra, the sounds
Often haunting and dark…..
Four little girls,
Four women never to be…What do they call me?
Strange, low-lying fruit…..voices from the earth
crying out and Nina began to scream louder
“Everybody knows about Mississippi,
Everybody knows about Alabama, everybody
knows about Mississippi – Goddamn!!!”
3 Responses
Touching & inspiring… Thanks for sharing.
Your writing still amaze me. I love this poem.
WOW and DAMN