rest in power, solemn soldier.

Ji Jaga Geronimo Pratt has gone home.

i thank this brother not only for his struggle as a
Black Panther, but for one lesson he taught me one
crisp spring morning out on the White House lawn about
13 years ago. i was there as part of an activist rally
fighting for the rights of political prisoners. many
on the front lines of the struggle were there. i had
spotted Angela Davis hurrying to speak, a nightingale
in the midst of all the protesters from other colleges
and communities. i was walking around, caught up in the
spirit but feeling a bit disconnected. i had been in
this frame of mind for some time, seeing that for every
person who devoted their time to the struggle there were
three people willing to be poverty pimps in a sense. only
there to make their post-collegiate resume look good.

i happened to have stumbled upon a small gathering by a
tree. and there before me was Geronimo Pratt. in all of his
simple but strong glory. i had a journal open with an
interview he had given taped to the page. i shook his
hand, and noted the firm grip. i had the journal in hand
and asked if he could sign the article. naive as hell, i
know. he gave me a kind but firm look(more than i deserved
at that moment really) and said, 'only movie stars sign
autographs.' i bowed my head slightly and apologized.
after a moment or two, i moved away from the group.

i thank Geronimo because what that moment taught me was,
as much as we like to romanticize the struggle, dress it
up in fatigues and rhetoric from afar, there are people
whose lives have changed utterly in the name of the struggle.
from that day on, i told myself, i will never even THINK
of cheapening what this brother and countless others have
done and still do. even if it looks like i'm not in full
solidarity because i don't talk the talk..if my heart is
in full solidarity then my actions will speak for me. and
since that day down in DC, i've tried my best to do that.

Geronimo never looked back. and he stayed true to his people
and himself, in stoic, forthright fashion. he even joined
another Panther, Pete O'Neal in Tanzania for the last ten
years with his Panther initiative there, until his passing
yesterday at the age of 63.

rest in power soldier. i'll never forget your lesson.

pouring some out of the bottle for Brother Gil.

*the author takes a sip, exhales*

maybe it fits into the divine equation that
exists within and outside of us that brother
Gil Scott-Heron went home on a Friday evening
in the city that was always in his blood, even
as it was killing him to hear him tell it. i've
always been of the opinion that a lot of his music,
intentional or not, went down better with a good
deal of nightfall and all of its open frontiers.
how many of you out there remember your parents
busting out that LP of 'The Bottle' at a family
party or hearing it being spun at some funky,
sweat-inducing house jam? for me, the first time
i ever heard that song bless my ears was as i was
sitting in the back of my dad's blue Cadillac as
he and my mom drove up to my grandmother's house
off of Gun Hill Road in the Bronx. and every last
bit of it, even though i was nine years old made
perfect sense and would continue to as i got older.

see, Gil Scott-Heron was many things to all of us
while still being one of us. many others with talent
as he had find themselves removed from the souls that
inspired them, be it by celebrity or other influences
and motives. Gil never did that. you saw that in all
of his music, even in his writing. i still remember
my great surprise at finding his novel 'The Vulture'
in the library at Hofstra University back in the day.
Gil kept up with the people. they didn't have to keep
up with him. and he spoke on damn near everything
with Black folks with a sage eye, and a voice that
grabbed your soul and shook it up enough to make you
realize you've been there before. if not you, your
mother, father and their ancestors back on down the
line. timelessness.

there will be eulogies. there will be many tribute
posts, many roses for this poet and musician, this
griot of the streets. there's going to be many who'll
reference perhaps his best known work, 'the revolution
will not be televised.' perhaps the best light that
can be gained from Gil going home is this: thanks to
him and his work, our voice, the one that was neglected,
almost snuffed out in the slime of ignorance, beaten
down and medicated to a stupor has risen to a place of
power that cannot and will not be denied ever again.
and that voice will keep on keepin' on until something
or someone outs the light on this blue marble we call
Earth.

rest in power brother. and thank you for everything
you've done and were.

*pours out the last of the bottle, sighs*