!["[ca. 1945] “DARK SOLDIER” By J. A. Emanuel, 642 Ord Am Co, Mindanao, P.I. Dark soldier, where were you When evil from the sky First fell upon your countrymen Who could do naught but die? I know--you, too, were at your post, Your lifeblood ebbed away. You gave your first full measure That famed December day. Dark solder, was your manhood there At your wounded country’s side? Or, did you di savow your kin, And creep away to hide? I know, you, too, took up your harms, Beside the fair-skinned man. You bore with you your mother’s prayers And sailed to the foreign land. You were maligned, dark soldier, While you were in the fray. The onslaughts of your countrymen Beshamed the American way. Dark soldier, how did you meet your death By the hand of friend and foe? What was your prayer as you gave your life For a land that treats you so? I know your prayer, dark solider: “America, you take my sons in hand And let them live the way they plan, The way I died for them--a man.” [*For original see Subject File, Military service.] "](https://cuny.manifoldapp.org/system/resource/c/3/1/c31a79f6-40fc-47ab-b8eb-57491a52e67a/attachment/1b109f3b92937b4231e86883d753d619.jpg)
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MY FIRST NOVEL, PAGE ONE
![183
[*”At Bay”: Using the images common to a confrontation between police and a lawbreaker, this poem examines the feelings of the “underdog”.*]
At Bay
My sirens
Ain’t never stopped screamin’
My searhlights
Ain’t got to no sky
My pistol
Ain’t hung up for dreamin’
My tear gas
Ain’t made nobody cry.
Come on, cops.
Ain’t but one way
To live and to die.
1966
1968
183
[*I Touched the Hand of a Solider Dead: an anti-war poem set in the Philippine Islands. The sampaguita is the national flower there.*]
I touched the hand of a solider dead
On Bukidnon hill.
I touched a cold and lonely hand. [*This line reflects my seeing (I thought) a human hand in the water near Manila Bay as the troopship I had been on for 36 days, the General Anderson, neared its destination*]
It was quite still.
It looked not like an enemy,](https://cuny.manifoldapp.org/system/resource/a/3/d/a3d663c6-be19-4e1b-a1f3-83cbb38529fa/attachment/98596816ed1861884b982849fca588f0.jpg)
I Touched the Hand of a Soldier Dead (with annotations) 1
Draft, He Shall Be Nameless
HE SHALL BE NAMELESS Fair Copy 2
HE SHALL BE NAMELESS Fair Copy 1
I Touched the Hand of a Soldier Dead (with annotations) 2
![Poem begun at Le Barry, 1 Aug. 1985, 11:20 a.m.—12:37; 4:40 p.m.—5:05
A BLACK MILITANT POEM SPEAKS
by J. A. Emanuel
I was born militant,
screamed
when the world first [*leave 5 spaces*] touched me,
slapped me into life.
Measles, mumps, and scarlet fever
dug [was like trenches to my bedroom door,]
foxholes near my schoolyard,
[tried an tough tested me at fighting back,]
[blood tested
[while words my father hated]
[toughened my hands]
[to the schoolyard,] to my inkwell,
[sank] dragged me home
to [for] test[s at] my fighting back.
Retilo Remos taught me how to [swear curse
like Mexicans pushed [who had to live] in boxcars homes [across the] across [beyond] the railroad tracks,
while words my father always hated
[toughened my hands, like cracked marbles toughening gripped] toughened my hands
like the grip of cracked marbles.](https://cuny.manifoldapp.org/system/resource/3/0/b/30bbc15c-2790-434e-bd8c-1e2755707614/attachment/7a6711ded94ed9322a4b9d66f6f91496.jpg)
Draft, A BLACK MILITANT POEM SPEAKS
A BLACK MILITANT POEM SPEAKS