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Freedomways Second Quarter 1973

Precious Lord,
Take My Hand
Sadanand Rege

When newspapers brought the news
radios and TVs were
already shedding 
crocodile tears.
It's their job they said; somebody
pays them sinister ransom
for this fat, fabulous ritual.
They made us weep too
When we wanted to be serene and silent,
and we're shocked
and we whispered amongst us
rumours of suspicion and hatred.
Diplomats stood prophetlike
in readiness and making
their girl-stenos sit on their laps
dictated to them dictionaries
of words, antonyms, synonyms and idioms.
How good, godly, goody-goody
all-time jolly good black fella you're etc. 
All about us was the air polluted
with the stink of wordy filth.

And in Memphis there was no sun. 
We're dancing the devil-dance
When all of a sudden, lo-blood 
on the moon and stars!
We're the haters, apostles of Judas. 
Sure, our revenge we'd taken
our revenge
against the black 
- everything black,
the colour of ebony, Robeson, 
Owen, Othello, Luthuli, Kenyatta,
Night without stars.
Stark naked in our whiteness
We'd hidden our bloody

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