Russell L. Goings delivers words of uplift in the cadence of a poet

"There is a great inferiority that exists in me," Goings says, "But Romare's friendship set my spirit free. He freed me to be an artist."

Oct. 16, 1995: Goings attends the Million Man March.

He is warmed by the camaraderie but chilled by questions about the reasons for the march. Why don't more participants know their backstory - and why isn't that backstory ingrained in the nation's academic canon?

For 13 years, Goings commutes to Fairfield University in Connecticut, where he studies with poet Kim Bridgford and others. All the while he writes, with Bridgford as his editor. Finally, she tells him "put the pen down."

In West African culture, a griot is both thing and person, story and storyteller. Before history was written, it was remembered in verse and in music. So it is with Goings' griot.

"It sings the story of who we are," Goings tells the men, his voice booming now. "It is the collective music that is below the level of consciousness and at the bottom of the sea.

"My ancestors drowned in that sea in the Middle Passage. They are down there still, and they are not quiet." His voice pounds thunder into them, and the audience erupts in applause. "How dare we not pay homage to my ancestors!"

They are on their feet now, clamoring their understanding and their gratitude. He calls for questions, and a hundred hands rise.

One man says he wants to be a tailor. He has the training but not a certificate, so companies won't hire him.

"What would happen if you dressed up the people you know? Put your minister in a suit you made, and let people ask about it."

Another asks about giving back to the community.

"I think the concept of giving back is wrong," he says. "All you have in life is this moment, so I try to enrich the moment. It's likely somebody in this room will be enriched."

Hear the author reading from his work at http://media.philly.com/audio/ Russ+1.mp3.