Adam’s Black Daughters Conform to the World
by Sabrina Dawkins
Adam’s daughters wear straight hair
and not even their own,
skin brown, beautiful,
who didn’t feel pretty
so they tried to copy
the appearance of an enemy.
And Malcolm asked rhetorically,
“Who taught you to hate
the texture of your hair?”
Adam’s daughters replace God
with songs of worship
to mortal men,
numerous men,
with their heart and soul,
godless men,
men who leave them
over and over again,
whom they lust.
But their God,
they do not know.
Full-voice ad libs
for flesh and blood
and even demons
in human form
as hell under restless flesh
causes weaves and wigs to sweat.
Eyes closed tight,
mouth wide,
hand extended in the air
for a hero who isn’t there,
for a flesh-and-blood figure
of a man,
screams, ad libs, vocal runs,
but he will not come.
And if he does,
he will not stay.
For he is but a form
solidified by many songs
that Adam’s daughters sing,
singing, “I Am Broken,”
and “He Gives Bad Love to Me,”
who took the glory of the Lord
and gave it to a man
but never again to the King.
And Adam mourns,
yes he mourns
that he was unable to persuade
his many daughters,
who trade gospel for R&B,
to separate from the serpent,
the coffee without conk cream.
Rap music instead of
Negro spirituals.
Tupac praises Huey Newton
as a thug hero.
And blackness, now cool,
has become
something you can put on
then remove
like an oversized afro—
Lauryn Hill, Erykah Badu—
an appearance in vogue
to be discarded
for another hat texture,
another sold-out concert,
blackness
without substance.
A fist thrown up
for atheism
with Angela Davis
and George Jackson.
Bleached souls
as dry bones
rattling inside.
And Adam sighs
over white bones
from his own flesh
who pretend to be black
when it meets convenience.
But afro wigs, like bell-bottom jeans
fell out of fashion.
Now blonde damaged hair
is the style to die for.
Moses and Elijah,
Michael and Gabriel,
invisible guardians,
fought for
your time to choose
to be more
than flesh offspring.
Have I conceived all this people? Have I begotten them, that thou shouldest say unto me, Carry them in thy bosom, as a nursing father beareth the sucking child, unto the land which thou swarest unto their fathers? – Moses
Numbers 11:12
And Elisha saw it, and he cried, My father, my father, the chariot of Israel, and the horsemen thereof. And he saw him no more.
2 Kings 2:12