Voices and Soul



17 August 2010

by Justice Putnam
Black Kos, Tuesday's Chile Poetry Editor


I had the great fortune to meet Abbey Lincoln backstage at Yoshi's in Oakland's Jack London Square in 2004. I was a little awe-struck, not so much by her fame as a jazz great, but more because of her actions and voice over all these years for civil rights. Though her albums were prominent on our turntable growing up, it was the poetry in her songs, the poetry that gave voice to the struggle of man and woman, that we spoke about in our family. It is the same poetry I give to my ten year old grandson and six year old granddaughter, as they embark on their own journey of life.

Abbey Lincoln's journey is done and she has gone home. May her rest be at ease.

Story Of My Father

Do we kill ourselves on purpose?
Is destruction all our own?
Are we dying for a reason?
Is our misery all our own?
Are the people suicidal?
Did we come this far to die?
Of ourselves are we to perish?
For this useless, worthless lie?

My father had a kingdom
My father wore a crown
They said he was an awful man
He tried to live it down
My father built us houses
And he kept his folks inside
His images were stolen
And his beauty was denied.

My brothers are unhappy
And my sisters they are too
And my mother cries for glory
And my father stands accused.

My father, yes my father
Was a brave and skillful man
And he led and served his people
With the magic of his hand.

My father, yes my father
His soul was sorely tried
‘Cause his images were stolen
And his beauty was denied.

Sometimes the river’s calling
And sometimes the shadows fall
That’s when he’s like a mountain
That is in master over all.

This story of my father
Is the one I tell and give
It’s the power and the glory
Of the life I make and live

My father has a kingdom
My father wears a crown
And he lives within the people
And the lives he handed down
My father has a kingdom
My father wears a crown
And through the spirit of my mother, Lord
The crown was handed down.

Well sometimes the rivers callin’
And sometimes the shadows fall
That’s when he’s like a mountain
That’s a master over all.

My father has a kingdom
My father wears a crown
And he lives within the people
And the lives he handed down

My father has a kingdom
My father wears a crown
Through the spirit of my mother, Lord
The crown was handed down
Through the spirit of my mother
The crown was handed down
Through the spirit of my mother, Lord
The crown was handed down!

-- Abbey Lincoln