NEW POEM: W.E.B. Du Bois

In 1868 one of the most important figures in history, William Edward Burghardt Du Bois who is better known as W.E.B. Du Bois, was born. He was the first black person to receive his Ph.D. from Harvard in 1895. He gained a reputation as an intellectual, as one of the most important essayists, documenters, and writers of his time largely thanks to the publication of his "The Souls of Black Folk".

His participation in the Niagara Movement, becoming a founding member of the NAACP and editor of the "The Crisis" were giant steps forward. His incredible publications continued throughout his life ("Darkwater", "Dark Princess", "Black Reconstruction") and his increased criticism of the government following WWII cemented his work on race relations, and he began working closely with pacifist organisations. After celebrating his 90th birthday, Du Bois toured Europe, the Soviet Union and China. In 1961 he accepted the invitation of Kwame Nkrumah, the president of independent Ghana, to move to Africa. He died on 27th August 1963.

His death occurred on the eve of the monumental civil rights protest march in Washington DC where Martin Luther King delivered his "I Have A Dream" speech. I have always felt that Du Bois was born at a time where his work and mission could flourish, and many key events happened during his lifetime. Born just three years after the abolition of slavery in the USA, he grew up in a world of deep scars and a country deep in division and steeped in hatred. The year he was born the 14th Amendment was passed, and in later years he as able to react to the 'Jim Crow Laws' and the idea and legally accepted state of separate but equal. While Franklin D. Roosevelt sent his country to war, he did so stating that they were defending the "freedom of speech, the freedom of worship, the freedom from want and the freedom from fear". Ideals that were denied to to black people in the USA. Du Bois lived in a time to witness such events as the murder of Emmett Till and the Rosa Parks bus protest. As mentioned, the day after he died MLK spoke of his dream and it was almost a handing over of the baton. This great moment in '63, was contrasted with the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in the following month. The work that Du Bois progressed still had a long way to go.

The poem you are about to read, "Of Mr. W.E.B. Du Bois", weaves some of the above events with his own life and times. I've referenced spirituals, words from Du Bois' writings and more. This has been written in the form of an acrostic poem as I wanted the great man himself to be coursing through every fibre of this piece.

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Of Mr W.E.B. Du Bois

A Poem By Simon Clark

“It is the wind and the rain, O God, the cold and the storm that make this earth of yours to blossom and bear its fruit. So in our lives it is storm and stress and hurt and suffering that make real men and women bring the world's work to its highest perfection.” – W.E.B. Du Bois

Welcomed in the nick of time to witness the 14th stepping-stone,

In a land built on the blood of the enslaved,

Lived inside colour lines; numbers brother up the dead and empty skies,

Longed to be called upon, not separate but equal, to build the roads unpaved,

Incited to examine, to educate and see,

Amidst the tainted south with dreams of owning land: the paradise he craved,

Mary, Ida, Moorfield, and Du Bois advanced rights in the light of hostility.

Even as the fighting raged and bombs fell all around,

Dust and ashes over graves; prayed the Lord would bear their spirits home,

While the words of Franklin D’s ‘four freedoms’ echoed the hypocritical sound,

Against the foe, defending freedom of speech, worship, from want and fear,

Realities denied as the livery was stripped away when stood on home ground,

Degraded and demeaned by the protections they cannot reap.

Bound, beaten, brutalised and belittled, Du Bois bravely penned the facts,

Unconscionable that aged 14; boys are found sunk in the Tallahatchie River,

Rolling, unresting waters that never rest when Emmett Till and life is attacked,

Grieving is fine, but that took a ticket and got in line,

Hope ignited as Rosa didn’t move - her courageous act,

Artfully crafted discussion, a protest to purge pain and anger,

Reverberation, hum of the mills, the noise by which the South was backed,

Darker thoughts; dim dangers still loitered and prowled,

The 16th Street Baptist bombing, the power of the pen and a desire to react.

Destroy ignorance or ignorance will destroy the United States, he said,

Unforgotten words, a line of thread guiding forth from the souls that bled.

Be judged not by the colour of skin but by the content of character, we heard,

Only one day after, we heard, Du Bois had breathed his final word,

Incalculable, incomprehensible is the loss caused by aggression,

Say it loud, the cost of liberty is less than the price of repression.

© Simon Clark