“Catch the Fire” by Sonia Sanchez

(Sometimes I wonder:

What to say to you now

in the soft afternoon air as you

hold us all in a single death?)

I say—

Where is your fire?

I say—

Where is your fire?

You got to find it and pass it on.

You got to find it and pass it on

from you to me from me to her from her

to him from the son to the father from the

brother to the sister from the daughter to

the mother from the mother to the child.

Where is your fire? I say where is your fire?

Can’t you smell it coming out of our past?

The fire of living…not dying

The fire of loving…not killing

The fire of Blackness…not gangster shadows.

Where is our beautiful fire that gave light

to the world?

The fire of pyramids;

The fire that burned through the holes of

slaveships and made us breathe;

The fire that made guts into chitterlings;

The fire that took rhythms and made jazz;

The fire of sit-ins and marches that made

us jump boundaries and barriers;

The fire that took street talk sounds

and made righteous imhotep raps.

Where is your fire, the torch of life

full of Nzingha and Nat Turner and Garvey

and DuBois and Fannie Lou Hamer and Martin

and Malcolm and Mandela.

Sister/Sistah Brother/Brotha Come/Come

CATCH YOUR FIRE…DON’T KILL

HOLD YOUR FIRE…DON’T KILL

LEARN YOUR FIRE…DON’T KILL

BE THE FIRE…DON’T KILL

Catch the fire and burn with eyes

that see our souls:

WALKING.

SINGING.

BUILDING.

LAUGHING.

LEARNING.

LOVING.

TEACHING.

BEING.

Hey. Brother/Brotha. Sister/Sista.

Here is my hand.

Catch the fire…and live.

live.

livelivelive.

livelivelive.

live.

live.