Related to Rhythm: Three Poems
Act I - Power:
what power is in my hands
my hands be power, be power,
my power is in what hands, my what
is power in whose hands. my power,
what? yes is in my power! yes!
no is in my power! no! power! what!
yes! power! my power! is! is! is!
is is my power. is my hands! my hands raise!
what hands do! punch! and pray!
fighting for this joy! damn,
blood on my cheek,
like a kiss! wounded
where I am loved! loved
where I am wounded!
wounded where I am loved
loved where I am wounded
wounded where I am loved
loved where I am wounded
power! power! power! power!
Act II - Loved
Act III - Where
Act IV - I
Act V - Am
I. Bass
drop hand on center of the drumhead
fingers, palm, heel of hand
the drum will talk back
and forth
centuries before and beyond you
wooden time travel
body carved from tree body
hollow and still full
descendant of breath givers
the drum gives and takes breath
the drum is language
is living ancestor,
it talks back and forth
drop palm on center of heart
hold it there
your beat will talk back
and forth
centuries before and beyond you
that which runs through us
has run before
(run! run! run!)
that which runs through us
has (run! run! run!) before
(run! run! run!)
breathing heavy,
living ancestor
talk back and forth
time travels through us
hand on drum
hand on heart
I am still learning the language
that runs through us
a blood river cuts through me
I am lost to myself
II. Tone
extract any space between fingers
drop fingers toward the edge of the drumhead
the drum will TALK back
and soar
from its skin, rushing
to reunite with its kin
higher pitch,
you can make a drumscream,
can makea dancer cry,beautiful
movement, a drum can make youscream,
a dancer can makeyou cry, beautiful
movement, a dancer can make a drum
dance,can makeyou dance
you drum
every being a shaper, a shifter
every being shaped,shifting
back and forth, shifting
back and forth
time travels through me
like a ship in the sky
time travel threw me
into the hands of God
I know how it feels to have wings
the edge of the drum has wings
pushed us to the edge
we are no one’s margins
flew to the center of ourselves
marchin, marchin is a form of rhythm
many have tried to ban
the drum
the tongue
the sway of hips
as if Black language is gun
but the spirit is armed, has arms
moves from body to body
embodied, embodied
the spirit can’t die
learned to drum without drums
learned to fight while dancing
sweetened tears with sugar cubes of laughter
wounded where we are loved
loved where we are wounded
there are spirits that can’t be stomped out!
we stomp! children of boom!
I couldn’t be unrelated to rhythm if I tried
III. Slap
gently, insert space between your fingers
drop them toward the edge of the drumhead and
quickly
let your hand bounce back up
quick, light
drop
quick, light
Flight, reverberating
from drum skin
my pupils remember the sun
and my warmth returns
skin salted, ocean slick
couldn’t be alone
if I tried,
Atlantic opened its mouth wide
I dive in
baptism or funeral
baptism or funeral
baptism and funeral
baptism and funeral
baptism and funeral
God gave me gills for all my lives,
before and beyond me,
the dead are still shaping us
I am swimming with those
who have dreamt with the fishes
warmth as movement
every fragment of me dancing
my spirit is sweating from your love
salt crystals on my spirit
like an ocean passed through here
and left me undrowning
left me without leaving me
to speak in tongues is to speak in saliva
digesting this dance
I break down. I break beat. I beat
brake. I slow down. Every fragment of I
is tethered to ancestors, dead & alive
all here
AUTHOR'S NOTE
"Describing Warmth" is written in loving memory of Alicia Lawrence, who shined like glitter, and often told her loved ones, "you were on my spirit today." I am so grateful to the Alicia Lawrence Legacy Initiative and Tassiana for creating space to reflect and honor Alicia Lawrence's Legacy through creativity and community, and it is through a space they facilitated where this poem was first born.
Edited by Joyce Chen.
