CC Mercer Watson

We are the Afronauts,
From the Bluffs of Pine,
And the Terrain of Tennessee,
Arkansas to Mississippi,
And good ole Texarkanie,
In our tailored space suits,
White ties,
Church shoes,
A handkerchief to wipe the sweat from our brows,
“Our heads are bloodied, but unbowed”,
We boldly go where no man has gone before,
we’re going to mARs,
An uncharted land,
Mapped in the stars,
Subjugated to classes in the basement,
Our living quarters off campus because of our Black faces,
Taunted, teased, and sometimes harmed,
But we, the Afronauts,
Remained sharp in our armor,
We refused to drag our dignity on the ground,
So away went,
Up into the clouds,
we’re going to mARs,
Quilting the brown-eyed man,
Through the black-eyed pea,
A futuristic lesson learned from Nikki Giovanni,
The truth must always be spoken,
And righteously lived,
The law must be just,
And unequivocally give,
Everyone the opportunity to be protected,
Yet we were rejected,
Oppressed,
Collected as specimens,
Man not thought to be man,
Our people were documented as 3/5ths human,
What kind of monsters would tell that lie,
To a Black man,
In his white tie,
The jury,
Hung,
The wind,
Sung,
A song of our ancestors in their mother tongue,
we’re going to mARs,
To speak on their behalf,
Free our lineage from the tyranny that we once had,
Or we still have,
It’s hard to say,
So instead of the Hell on Earth,
We traveled into space,
Sought what was ours,
An education,
Learned the old texts,
To build a new world,
We are the Afronuats,
Intergalactic beings that you may have long forgot,
This is your challenge to remember that we were here,
On the hills and mountain tops,
We are The Six Pioneers,
A name given after all that we endured,
It was a way that we insured,
That other Black folks could,
Be lawyers,
And be loyal to their dreams,
No cream of no crop,
Just fruit that refused to drop,
Or rot,
Or fall from the vine,
Remember who we are,
In the great span of time,
We traveled here,
And now we travel far,
A council of ancestors,
Attorneys, judges, deans, and Afronauts,
we’re going to mARs,
Red states to red planets,
Black Kings and the Queen’s Gambit,
Every piece on the board,
More than pioneers,
Now we are explorers,
Tune into this cosmic folklore,
From South Fayetteville to Capitol Hill,
The world,
Beyond,
Come on, everyone, put on your space suits,
we’re going to mARs.