April 17, 2025 I saw Raisin in the Sun for the first time tonight at Taproot Theatre. It is a strong ensemble cast that performs it. It is a play I’d studied twice in school. Hearing the language and seeing the story unfold was powerful. It sparked a discussion in my family among all the powerful themes and then
about language and what came from slavery to then and what replaced it. I tried to put this into a poem.

 

Sunburnt Raisin Plumps Again

“Pick it up, boy!”

“How you doing, man?”

The one phrase

Influences another

For generations

The knife is plunged

While reclaimers pull it out

Demeaned calling grown men boys

To grind under foot

The essence of what they are

Racism with a low growl

scratches at the surface

survivalist reach out

a shaking hand

to pet the head

of such a beast

taming it with

grown up names

turned inside out

of the insults

till they tickle

and matter to no one

as they have become

a greeting among us

those that live

life on thier own terms