This photograph of a solid black wolf by Kurt Kemnitzer was named “Photo of the Day” for February 10, 2021 by Smithsonian Magazine. Kemnitzer actually snapped the picture in November 2020. While I’ve seen plenty of black domestic dogs, I can honestly say I’ve never seen a solid black wolf. As a bona fide wolf lover whose favorite color is black, this photo is almost like a dream to me.
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“So some day, if a Democrat becomes President and the Republicans win the House, even by a tiny margin, they can impeach the President, without due process or fairness or any legal rights. All Republicans must remember what they are witnessing here — a lynching. But we will WIN!”
– Faux-President Donald Trump, colorfully describing the impeachment inquiry by the Democrat-controlled U.S. House of Representatives
Still working (with surprisingly little effort) to maintain his role as ASSHOLE-in-Chief, Trump once again uses racist terminology to elicit sympathy from his brainless followers.
To put the concept of lynching back into historical perspective, the above photo was taken shortly before the lynching death of Henry Smith in Paris, Texas, in 1893 that was viewed by a crowd of 10,000 as a public spectacle. An estimated 4,000 people have been lynched in the U.S. since the end of the Civil War, even as late as the 1960s; mostly Black, but also Native American, Hispanic and even some Whites. Courtesy of the Library of Congress.
The National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama offers a stark view of the REAL victims of human intolerance.
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This is a version of a poem I first composed in February 1983, when I was 19. It reveals my long-held passion for the color black, oceans, wind and the moon. It also highlights my obsession for women with long hair, especially long black hair.
Coal black,
Solid black,
Deepest darkest as the night.
I have no fear.
I feel no fright.
I see your face,
With the crescent moon’s light.
And I see your hair,
In this coal black night.
I wince through the shadows,
Your tresses glisten with streaks of blue.
A river of indigo,
It makes me coo.
I must concede,
I still lust for you.
Standing on this cliff of immense height,
I remain awed with your porcelain beauty,
And owls take flight.
Your eyes gaze wickedly delicious,
From a face so blessed and kind.
My heart thunders.
What dreams do you have in mind?
The moon we both love lingers above the sea.
I feel a surge of blood within my soul.
Are you wanting to set me free?
I still want to touch that waterfall of hair,
Hold you tight,
And assure you I really do care.
Your sapphire follicles caressed by the winds.
The onyx sky bears no cloud,
A theater of stars dancing above,
Happy and proud.
They accentuate your face,
And tumble through that mass of hair.
I reach to touch you.
But I shall not dare.
You kiss the breeze and start for the sea.
Please look back.
Do you have any love for me?
But you wince and you taunt.
Deep in my heart,
You forever haunt.
“Perhaps,” you whisper,
Coy and bright.
And I remain enamored,
On this coal black night.
© 2018 Alejandro De La Garza
Bottom image by Alex Cherry.
Filed under Wolf Tales
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