Voices Rising
DreamYard Prep Slam Team
Jesica Blandon, Destiny Campbell, Miosoty Castillo, Denisse Cotto, and Chris Taylor
arranged by Renée Watson
They say,
"Life and Death are in the power of the tongue."
And if this is so,
Our words are oxygen.
Listen.
Let your ears breathe deeply. Take in our palabras.
What we're about to say will save you. Listen.
Do you hear that sound?
That is the sound of a million voices rising.
Our voices rise
For Oscar Grant.
For the Black Friday massacre.
For my abuelo y abuela.
For little girls and boys.
For my mother. My uncle.
For the aborted and abandoned.
We speak for the ones who have been silenced by fear.
By choice. By ignorance.
Shame. Death.
Listen.
Oscar Grant,
My voice rises for the fight you never put up.
Tell that burning steel, "You don't belong here beneath my flesh.
Leave. Go. Don't come back.
My skin is not a crime."
Is it just that some things can't be changed?
How many times can the red blood of black and brown men
be spilled on gray cement and be called an accident?
Listen.
My voice rises for the Black Friday massacre.
A modern day Guérnica.
Our voices rise for the tragedies that don't make the 5 o'clock news.
My voice rises for the children in third world countries.
No education. Little food.
Their struggles taken out of the newspaper
and replaced by articles reporting A-Rod's scandal with steroids.
By celebrity weight gains and break-ups.
Listen.
I know you have problems of your own,
But will you listen?
Will you be different from the thousands of others
who cast us aside because we are young?
Listen.
My voice rises for the girls trapped in four walls with men who think they're sexy.
My voice rises for the times when little girls aren't given the chance to speak for themselves.
Little girls, my voice rises over your screams
of broken innocence.
Like glass bits in the wind,
your screams pierce my lungs.
And I know these words aren't easy on the ears.
Medicine doesn't always taste good going down,
But I promise you --
I-PROMISE-YOU
If you hear this, you will get better.
You will get better once you listen to the sound of hope,
of change.
It's manifestation came in a man and a mantra, "Yes we can."
But hope was birthed through
Me and Me
and Us.
Poets have been pregnant with change for centuries.
We push out revolutions in prose and poems.
Planted word-seeds sowed a long time ago
are just now coming into harvest.
So listen.
This is for the future.
For tomorrow.
Our very breath is the ink that will write future history books.
Our vignettes collect voices of today so tomorrow can survive the future.
Listen.
Can you spare me your eardrum?
Keep your change.
I don't want your money.
Just your heart.
Just want your ears.
Just want you to listen.
Listen and speak.
Speak your story.
Tell someone else's.
And if you can't find enough words to plant,
Sow these.
Nurture these words
and bring them back to me in a million quotes
so I know you were listening.
Bring them back to me fully bloomed
and my voice will rise to Langston and tell him
those dreams deferred are paid in full.
Listen.
Can you hear us now?
Our voices are rising.
Listen.
Put away the distractions:
The iPods, the games.
The reality tv shows,
text messaging and cell phones.
Listen.
Can you hear us now?
Our voices are rising.
Can you hear us now El Barrio?
Can you hear us now New York City?
Or has Sprint dropped this poem?
