The story goes three ways
as most stories do.
1
Certain sea island Africans, who wove culture
into baskets and braids, who cut Igbo into English
like butter into flour and watched it rise,
who were least equipped to becoming chattle
would close their eyes, murmur some words,
and ascend like black Jesuses
fly back to Africa, a flock
of buzzards.
Authorities claimed these disappearances were suicides
a calm walk into the swampy salt
a quick shimmy and fall out of a tree
bodies still tangled under reeds and in branches
ghosts making fishing impossible.
2
Those who read the code differently
doubted suicide while in custody.
They found no evidence
other than muted horse tracks, broken branches,
whirling water, and a disappeared body
except the occasional neighbor still suspended in air
spinning on the wind, head tilted off
towards Glory.
3
Lesser known the children of Khaless
visited earth, erected the pyramids,
unlocked the zodiac, built warrior tribes.
Goliath, man of the in between,
was the grandson of a full-blooded Klingon,
and cousin of young David.
Goliath, double- visioned and near-blind
was a student of Mok’Bara
any touch could be countered
through breath and meditation.
Brown-skinned Bathsheba, daughter of the oath
woman of Qo’nos, violated
in a foreign land by a corrupted king,
avenged her husband’s murder
by taking David’s throne,
his lineage, and thus his life
for the Klingon Empire.
Makeda, queen of Sheba
dark and comely, with the mind of Lilith
(one of earth’s early Klingon visitors)
able to test the wisest of wise Solomon
until he knelt before her in marriage
These Sea Island Africans were raised by humans
but were of Emperor Khaless and Lady Lucara
like Hannibal, like Shaka of the Zulus,
like Mansa Musa of the Klingon House of Keita,
like the son of Mogh.
These Igbo transported away to a Bird
of Prey navigating the stratosphere,
a chariot swung low
coming for-to carry them
to the Klingon Home World.