"I birthed a black nation. From my womb black creation spilled forth to be stolen, shackled, dispersed.
I dispatched black warriors raged against unjust barriers to find the black and strong had fallen divided deceived overcome.
Black oceans separate us torchered cries songs of black greatness still echo in my canal.
When we finished we were supposed to exit the platform-me first, Vonetta second and fern last. We'd walked off the stage and over to the wing. That was what i was certain we'd done. Then i turned and saw Fern still standing in the center of the stage.
Two things happended just then. Really, three things.
My mother calls me Little Girl, but this is a poem by Fern Gaither, not Little Girl. This is a poem for crazy Kelvin. Its called 'a pat on the back for a goodpuppy.'"
"Crazy Kelvin 'off the pig'. Crazy Kevin slaps everyone five. The police man pats crazy kelvin on the back. The police man says, 'good puppy'. Crazy Kelvin says, 'arf. arf. arf, arf, arf, arf, arf.' Because I saw the police man pat your back, Crazy Kelvin. Surely did."
First, the crowd went wild for Fern Gaither.
Second, Crazy Kelvin backed away. I think he was searching for the best way to get out of the park, but he was surrounded by black panthers. They knew what Fern had said, even though it took Vonetta and me a little longer to understand what fern had said and seen. Luckily for kelvin there were enough police men to step in and get him out of the park.
A third thing just happened just then, only I didn't know it at the time. Cicile told it to me in a letter a month later. And that thing, the third thing was, a poet had been born.