For Oz

Take back the hope you gave me
Read between these lines that I feed you

Sing low with your baritone notes
That remind us of old songs with incomplete endings

Today I will learn to shape me
From thunder a poet shall blossom
Slowly one of us will rise
We will grow like everlasting things do

Will bleed when plucked
Will weep if wasted
Will sacrifice for fate
If fears of never reaching the top
Are realized while falling from a cliff
Gripping the root of anything that matches Heaven
Will almost die if neglecting the pen becomes permanent
Will survive after almost letting go for an instant
Filling every unforgiving minute
With sixty more seconds worth of going the distance
The same space that denied us the bliss of another next masterpiece

But… If I can keep my eyes on the prize
If I can walk with kings
If I can talk to crowds
If I can risk and lose and start again from the beginning
If I can hurt and come back stronger
If I can dream and not make dreams my demons
If I can draw the blade and follow through
With my rebirth that began as a teenage suicide
If I can trust myself long enough
To convince my jury to stop doubting me
If I can find paradise outside my comfort zones
And teach my shadow how to control the manic in my delusions
If I can remember to pray monthly, weekly, daily,
More often than I remember to do now
Sooner than two seconds before my next biggest emergency

Then I can give back the hope you gave me
Read between the lines of the last great poems you fed me
Poems that spoke of Momma Tun
Poems that spoke of Speaking the Word
Poems that spoke of Raindrops think their flying until they hit the ground

Maybe I can surround you with softer songs and everlasting beginnings
Maybe I can help complete the almost
You might have heard in your own words
Before you silently swore never to write again

Maybe you would care that tonight in this room
I feel the same way I feel on most nights I take the stage without you

Maybe you will figure out whatever it is you need
To help inspire you to breathe new words again

Maybe you will figure out who this poem is talking too

Then I can give back the hope you gave me
And you will find the urge to talk back
And tomorrow you will learn to shape you
And you will hum the baseline to this song
And you will hum the baseline to this song
And you will hum the baseline to this song

poem by Iyeoka Ivie Okoawo

Next in New York

In August 2005, I landed a role in a Northern Light Production of a 5-min piece for the NY Historical Society exhibit SLAVERY IN NEW YORK. The exhibit chronicles the economics of slavery in NY State. The exhibit includes an extensive showcase that features more than 20 art pieces newly commissioned for this show and 27 multi-media presentations, one of them being the piece that I am in called "The Well".
I play a slave of African descent named Madamaraya.
It was 2 days of grueling work. Take after take after take... Hollywood is no joke ya'll!

Anyways, what made it all worth it for me beyond the paycheck was the gift of the flashback.
I allowed myself to flashback to a moment in American history when our struggles,
our "issues"
were deeper than any I could ever pretend to know now.

During production of "The Well", I had an invaluable opportunity to work with
Senior Producer Judy Richardson, former filmmaker/producer of Blackside Inc. original Eyes on the Prize series.

***FLASHBACK***

I remember growing up in the 80's and my mom forcing my siblings and I to drop everything to watch PBS's Eyes on the Prize with her in her bedroom.
I remember how angry and confused I'd get by the end of the hour.
Those images reluctantly stayed with me and slowly drew into focus as I got older.

I don't remember learning any of it in my history classes.
I figured maybe it was too embarrassing of a moment in history for them to talk about it.
I mean, they talked about the obvious heros, but never seemed to ever elaborate on the details of the struggle, and the movement and the situations that lead up to the why we had to even HAVE a movement in the first place.

Amazing ...how years later, life brought me an opportunity to thank the woman directly responsible for supplying me with a truthful glimpse into a past we all wish we didn't have to remember.

But we do, don't we...

We have to remember her.
We have to believe that a woman named Madamaraya was real

We have to remember what became of these lives from the bullshit to the blessings
From the Rosa Parks to the the thousands of other names we fail to speak of

We have to remember to take nobody's story for granted
We have to remember that no matter how bad things get
there will always be room
For words like...
tomorrow and maybe...
and eventually
change can come

MAIN EXHIBIT VIEWING at the New-York Historical Society located at Central Park West and 77th Street from October 7, 2005 to March 5, 2006.
Museum and Museum Store Hours:Tuesday - Sunday 10am to 6pmOpen Friday until 8pmOpen Holiday Mondays: October 10, December 26, January 16, and February 20

http://www.slaveryinnewyork.org/index.html

photo of Derrick Ashong and Iyeoka Okoawo on location
for more pictures of production shoot for Slavery In New York go to http://www.iyeoka.com/gallery/.