eokane@charm.UUCP (Evan Kane) (09/20/84)
Impressions of Tim Harvey Of average height, but strongly built, A restless tiger caged inside, His eyes blaze hate that makes me wince, Impression that I try to hide. But here we are, some twenty odd, Confined within a motel room, A black awareness workshop meets, And apprehension shakes my mood. Discussion starts, the tension bites, We wonder what we're doing here, We're all so liberal, it seems, We've made no racist joke or smear. But soon I see with painful sight My condescending attitude, The patchwork little things I'd done, A tattered blanket hiding truth. The others fare no better, we Are all off-balance, losing face, Our feeble protests weakly wilt In withering scorn that desiccates. It's one to twenty, fair enough, And yet he holds us all at bay, Derides our clever arguments, The cloaks on prejudice we lay. That night I toss and turn in bed, I'm hurt and angry and ashamed, My self-esteem is badly scathed, I want to quit this ugly game. Next day the pressure is reduced, A new awareness is revealed, And for the first time comes a glimpse Of how a black man really feels. Most others' feelings echo mine And many converts seek to gain A nod, a smile, a note of thanks- Their efforts smother in disdain. Before too long we realize That none of what we saw was show, The hate we felt was all too real, Its well-spring started long ago, By nameless acts we'll never learn, By ugly men we'll never know, No healing bridge will ever cross The torrent of its bitter flow. So we may give Tim Harvey thanks For all that we have felt and learned And we may praise him all we want But we may never call him friend. -------------------------------------- Some ten years later I returned, I didn't know the broken man, His body ravaged by a stroke And leaning on a wooden cane. The fire was gone, the ashes smoked, The edge of bitterness remained, It hurt to see him humbled so, His passion's goal still unattained. Then two years later, he was dead And I could only try to guess What caustic had corroded through This driven martyr to his cause. Evan Kane 8/26/84