Calling All Souls

When people typically think of an artist
What usually comes to mind
Is someone who uses their imagination
To capture and convey reality as it is seen and felt
In the main, what we do (O leave undone) in the course of our everyday lives
Is viewed as insignificant
Unless or until we are thrown into the crucible of adverse circumstances
And forced to demand from Self the strength and focus necessary
To overcome seemingly insurmountable odds

I write and recite these words on January the 2nd 2022
Less than two years away from my proposed execution
Which is scheduled to take place on November the 16th 2023
In other words, I'm standing on the brink of my existence
Staring directly into that terrifying darkness that awaits us all
It's a difficult dilemma to be in, I won't lie
But the only way to face it is to make it mean something;
It is in this very strict sense of the word
That I consider myself an artist: someone who's trying to make a way out of no way

The music you are about to listen to comes out of the realm of the impossible
Something that, in reality, should not have been doable
Whether or not I am successful in stopping these people from killing me
You are right now listening to my last will and testament
The embodiment of everything I've endured, learned, and conquered
Because of the courage and vision of some very remarkable people
Who believed when there was no reason to believe
This project has come to fruition
My friend and brother, Albert Marques (Who's accompanying me on piano right now)
Is foremost among these fearless souls
On paper, he and I shouldn't have anything in common
After all, we speak different languages and come from two very different worlds
Where there exist barriers that aren't always easy to overcome
But music is a bridge, and all we need do is open our hearts and minds
To be able to comprehend the complexities that constitute our shared humanity
Ain't that right, Albert?

You see, for the past three decades I've lived out my existence in a cell on Ohio's death Row
Trapped in the carceral silence of solitary confinement
For the uninitiated, this means I've spent the bulk of my life (22 hours a day!)
Inside a cage no larger than the average closet
How have I survived without losing my mind? Music!

When I first arrived here almost thirty years ago
I was a deeply wounded and bitter person
And if it's true to say, as James Baldwin has said, that
"Hate, which can destroy so much, never failed to destroy the one who hated,"
I was surely on my way to a definite undoing

That an innocent man could be thrown into the depths of hell is an unspeakable horror
One that stretches back to the agony and pain that attended the middle passage
Indeed, what I am going through is not unprecedented;
It has been done before, a long time ago and recently
It took a fellow prisoner to point this out to me
An old man named Snoop who turned me on to the healing powers of music
It is to him that I owe my sanity
He gave me the means to sublimate my pain and the tools to reconstruct my mentality
Which, in turn, allowed me to see and understand that what I'm caught up in is
In fact, the continuation of a centuries-long struggle against oppression and greed

John Coltrane was my introduction to improvisational music
The music most commonly known as jazz
And served as the entry point into the vast reservoir of resistance
And accumulated wisdom that accompanied would-be slaves on their journey to the New Land
Put in its proper perspective,
This music is the blood-drenched document of man's inhumanity to man and the Overcoming of it
John Coltrane's A LOVE SUPREME should be seen in this light:
As the recapitulation of the fight to hold on to one's humanity
In the face of the unspeakable, unthinkable, one must not only speak and think clearly
But one must also strive to find the fortitude to love supremely
That's the moral of the story, folks

When heard separately, the crashing of a cymbal can be likened to the sound of a wave;
The snare to that of a heartbeat;
The bass line is the rising and setting of the sun;
The piano is how the wind blows;
And the horn is the blood-curdling scream of someone trapped inside a dream gone mad
And it's only when these polyrhythmic sounds abound
And come together that the Creator's voice can be heard:
EVERYTHING IS BEAUTIFUL!

Planted within the perilous plight that awaited my ancestors was a seed of hope,
Which was watered and cultivated by music
Through the lifting up of every voice came the singing,
Came the ringing of this glorious thing called freedom,
Which is love's true destiny. Indeed: Love is the only freedom.
Love is the only freedom!
LOVE IS THE ONLY FREEDOM!

We assert our true value when we persist
When, in spite of all and everything
We insist on the highest and best from ourselves and each other
This music is about trust and faith
About stepping out even when you can't see the stairs
And believing that your foot WILL find something solid to stand on
Following your heart is the purest form of improvisation
Being true to that voice that calls you forward and then doing
With dignity and grace, the thing that needs to be done
To change this system, to change the world
We must first change ourselves!
That's what John Coltrane believed
It is to this that we are calling all souls
Calling all souls!