Hi, this is Wayne again with a topic “Kelvin Green II (An MIT Community Vigil)”.
Kelvin GREEN Hi., My name is Kelvin Green, the second., I’m not without words, but the words that come to mind are not my own –, yet all mine.. If there’s one thing, I’ve learned in fighting with the violent reality of racism in this country, it is that we cannot do it alone. To me this means we must tap into the ancestors and their wisdom.. They are those that thought of us here and now, who knew we would have questions who knew we would be outraged and then decided to write so that we could read..
The word vigil comes from the Latin virgilia meaning wakefulness. And where I’m from a good sermon inspires a right now sense of wakefulness.. I’M no preacher but ancestor Toni Morrison wrote a sermon for us –, a sermon that demands nothing of us, but that the only grace we can have is the grace. We can imagine that if we cannot see it, we cannot have it. Baby.
Suggs is a now dead, elderly black woman in Toni, Morrison’s Beloved.. Among many other things, she was a preacher of the children, men and women in her community. Hear me now black people. “ Here ,”, she said “ in this here place.
We flesh. Flesh that weeps laughs. Flesh that dances on bare feet in grass., Love, it., Love, it hard.
Yonder. They do not love your flesh., They despise it.. They don’t love your eyes., They just as soon pick them out..
No more do they love the skin. On your back. Yonder, they flay it. And oh my people. They do not love your hands., Those they only use, tie, bind chop off and leave empty. Love your hands.
Love them., Raise them up and kiss them. Touch, others with them., Pat them together. Stroke them on your face, because they don’t love that either.. You got to love, it., You. And know they ain’t in love. With your mouth.
Yonder — out there –. They will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it. They will not heed.
What you scream from it. They do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body. They will snatch away and give you lemons, instead. No. They don’t love your mouth..
You got to love it.. This is flesh, I’m talking about here. Flesh. That needs to be loved.
Feet that need to rest and to dance. Backs that need support. Shoulders that need arms., Strong arms. I’M telling you.
And oh my people out yonder hear me.. They do not love your neck, –, unnoosed and straight.. So love your neck..
Put a hand on it. Grace, it., Stroke it and hold it up., And all your inside parts that they’d just as soon slop for hogs — you’ve got to love them. The dark, dark, liver, –, love, it., Love, it.
And the beat and beating heart. — love that too. More than eyes or feet more than lungs that have yet to draw free air more than your life holding womb and your life. Giving private parts. Hear me now love your heart, for this is the prize.”. Thank you.
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