Banjo

            (For Henry Tanner and The Banjo Lesson)

 

Patiently,

the old slave’s cracked and

workhard hands

guided the boy’s hands

to strum, strum, strum

the banjo

and pluck the merry

sounds

string by string by string.

Listen to the music:

bling, bling, bling,.

What the magic,

what the art,

can thaw even

the coldest white heart.

List to the banjo

pling, pling, pling—

Listen as the strings

sing, sing, sing.

Is this art,

or is this freedom?

At the sun’s

dying light

and well into the

blackdark night

they play

to stay

the real darkness.

Is this art
or is it freedom?

 

David Cooper © 2014