Black Journalism Flashback – Black Journalism Flashback – Put A Torch To The Robes Of Mourning – The Liberator – April 1965

Put a torch to the robes of mourning,

And don your sheath of armor,

Listen for his clarion’s blast,

For he is not dead my brothers,

His silenced voice,

Can still be heard,

Within the confines

Of our hearts.

Put a torch to the robes mourning…

For he is amongst us still.

Look in the eyes,

Of those who pass,

Along the ghetto streets,

And every black MAN

That you meet, Bid him but to speak,

And Malcolm’s booming voice,

Will echo through the streets.

Put a torch to the robes of mourning…

For the earth, in whose breast

Our warrior rests,

Battle-scarred, but not vanquished,

Will blossom,

With his love for us.

Put a torch to the robes of mourning…

For he is not dead I say.

You can feel him when your blood

Rushes through your veins,

And every drop,

That’s filled with fire,

Is but a semblance of his name.

Put a torch to the robes of mourning…

For he would not have us weep.

My brothers,

Let not the lion sleep!

To fight, that he may live,

Is a promise we must keep.

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Below is a commentary by Dr. Russell containg his thoughts about the death of Malcolm X.

“Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow”

When Malcolm was murdered I was a young man o 30 years. Like most young people at the time, I too was rebellious… I too did not trust too many folks over 30. What silly youthful irony! Yet, I entered the “Theresa Hotel” with trepidation, awe, incredulity and, of course, filled with the false sense of arrogance of my age. I left, as anyone who has spent any significant time in his presence, has; mesmerized by his brilliance, gentility, the love he expressed for our people and, for me, equally important, his moral strength and sense of purpose. His assassination increased my involvement in the struggle for Liberation of African people. Ergo my poem!

So many others, young and old, men and women, have perished or languish in jail or exiled for believing and fighting for what an “old man” who, according to the historian Lerone Bennett, said, and I paraphrase, “Racism is Evil kill it”. He too lies “smoldering in his grave” Rest well John Brown… You earned it!

Not so long ago, Harry Belafonte, that unselfish giant of a man – intellectually, politically, morally and artistically – without whom, many suggest, Dr. king would have been devoid of a movement – upon approaching 90 years of age introspectively mused “Where lie the rebel hearts?”. Lamentably, they are so few.

THANK YOU BLACK LIVES MATTER!