Showing posts with label Honorée Fanonne Jeffers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Honorée Fanonne Jeffers. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 14, 2022

Fracture by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

 



Fracture

West Africa, c. 15th century to 19th century

The men arrive. Slave ships are anchored.
The men arrive. The traders gather.
The men arrive. The traders march.
The men arrive. The war is waged.
The men arrive. The fire comes.
The men arrive. The people run.
The men arrive. The chase begins.
The men arrive. The dead abandoned.
The men arrive. The iron sounds.
The men arrive. The people march.
The men arrive. The sea. The sea.
The men arrive. The traders haggle.
The men arrive. The silver laughs.
The men arrive. The castle groans.
The men arrive. The door opens.
The men arrive. The water welcomes.
The men arrive. The mourning longs.
The men arrive. Our names shall scatter.




Sunday, December 5, 2021

Selah Honorée by Fanonne Jeffers

 


Selah

by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers


after Margaret Walker’s “For My People”


The Lord clings to my hands
             after a night of shouting.
                           The Lord stands on my roof
             & sleeps in my bed.
Sings the darkened, Egun tunnel—
             cooks my food in abundance,
                           though I was once foolish
             & wished for an emptied stomach.
The Lord drapes me with rolls of fat
             & plaits my hair with sanity.
                           Gives me air,
             music from unremembered fever.
This air

                                         oh that i may give air to my people
                                         oh interruption of murder
                                         the welcome Selah

The Lord is a green, Tubman escape.
             A street buzzing with concern,
                           minds discarding answers.
             Black feet on a centuries-long journey.
The Lord is the dead one scratching my face,
             pinching me in dreams.
                           The screaming of the little girl that I was,
             the rocking of the little girl that I was—
the sweet hush of her healing.
             Her syllables
                           skipping on homesick pink.
             I pray to my God of confused love,
a toe touching blood
             & swimming through Moses-water.
                           A cloth & wise rocking.
             An eventual Passover,
outlined skeletons will sing
             this day of air
                           for my people—

                                         oh the roar of God
                                         oh our prophesied walking


KISS

Wampum by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Memphis Resurrection by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Dreams of My Father by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

The Gospel of Barbecue by Honorée Fannonne Jeffers

Honorée Fanonne Jeffers / The Prophetess Sojourner Truth Discusses the Two Different Versions of Her Most Well-Known Speech, One Nearly Unknown and One Very Beloved Yet Mostly Untrue

Washita Battlefield National Historic Site by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Chorus of the Mothers-Griot by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Naming Ceremony by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers










Saturday, December 4, 2021

Honorée Fanonne Jeffers / Lost Letter #1: Phillis Wheatley, Boston, to Susannah Wheatley, Boston

 


Lost Letter #1: Phillis Wheatley, Boston, to Susannah Wheatley, Boston*

by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers


January 18, 1764

Dear Mistress:

Odysseus sailed the ocean like me
and Nymphs held him in their arms.
They are ladies like my yaay.

[i will burn this letter in the hearth you are
watching me as i smile i am a good girl i am]

I shall practice my lessons for you
and Miss Mary, pretend Master Nathaniel

does not yank my hair and tell me,
he’ll take a razor and shave me bald.
For you, God will scrub my skin—

but when might I see my yaay? I cannot
recall how she would say bird or baby

or potato in that other place.
Yaay needs to see that my teeth grew in,
that I am alive after my long journey.

[yaay come for me please i shall be a good
girl i have forgotten how to be naughty]

Today snow comes down. Outside,
a soul has slipped and fallen on the ice.
That’s what that crying means.

Your servant and child,
Phillis


* The word “yaay” here means “mother” in the Wolof language of Senegal and The Gambia of West Africa.



KISS

Wampum by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Memphis Resurrection by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Dreams of My Father by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

The Gospel of Barbecue by Honorée Fannonne Jeffers

Honorée Fanonne Jeffers / The Prophetess Sojourner Truth Discusses the Two Different Versions of Her Most Well-Known Speech, One Nearly Unknown and One Very Beloved Yet Mostly Untrue

Washita Battlefield National Historic Site by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Chorus of the Mothers-Griot by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Naming Ceremony by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers








Friday, December 3, 2021

Blues: Odysseus by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers





Blues: Odysseus

by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

How many sat underwater,
entangled by myth’s past tense,
before Neptune first raised his
beard in the direction of Ethiopia,
and after, Odysseus—
always living—
was saved by Homer’s tablet?
Centuries after that story was written,
in the land of Not Make Believe,
a crew of slave-ship sailors
threw one hundred and thirty-two
Africans into the Atlantic Ocean.
Heave-ho to souls.
And people. And laws. And kin.
But Odysseus lives. He always will,
Our Great White Hope—
before whiteness was invented—
this hero who longs for the wood’s sway.
Despite his tendency to chase tail—
sirens and sundry other
poppycock-drinking girls—
I want to be happy that Homer imagined
a sea housing pretty, forgiving Nymphs—
while somewhere else, a wheel dances
and someone else drowns.
Sharks should pass Odysseus by,
never imagining his taste.
The gods shouldn’t pull at his fate—
now angry, now benevolent.
I try hard not to blame that man:
We all deserve our Maker’s love.



Thursday, December 2, 2021

Honorée Fanonne Jeffers / Portrait of Dido Elizabeth Belle Lindsay

 

Dido Elizabeth Belle, 1779


Portrait of Dido Elizabeth Belle Lindsay, Great-Niece of Lord Mansfield, and Her Cousin, Lady Elizabeth Murray, c. 1779 (by unknown artist)

by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers


A Black came in after dinner and sat with the ladies...Lord M...calls her Dido, which I suppose is all the name she has. He knows he has been reproached for showing fondness for her...


From The Diary and Letters of His Excellency Thomas Hutchinson,
        August 1779


Dido moves quickly—
as from the Latin anime.

Breath or soul.
Beside her, the generations-free kin,

a biscuit figurine in pink.
Dido standing in irony—

the lowest are taller here—
Elizabeth should provide

an unkind contrast: pretty, blond,
pale in uncovered places—

but no.
The painter worships the quickened other.

Dido, his coquette of deep-dish
dimples, his careless, bright love.

Forget history.
She's a teenager.

We know what that means.
Cocky, stupid about reality.

No thought of babies—
feathers in her arms.

She might wave them, clearing
dead mothers from the air—

and surely, she's special—
her uncle dressed her with care,

hid her from triangles and seas
outside this walled garden.

Let her be.
Please.

No Dying Mythical Queen
weaving a vivid, troubled skin—

but Dido, full of girlhood,
and Elizabeth reaching

a hand. Behave, cousin,
she begs.

Don't run away from me.


Dido was the great-niece of William Murray, First Earl of Mansfield; as Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, he is responsible for the Somersett ruling (1772), which essentially outlawed slavery in England, though not in the colonies.


Honorée Fanonne Jeffers
Photo by Sidney A Foster


Born in 1967, Honorée Fanonne Jeffers received a BA from Talladega College and an MFA from the University of Alabama. She is the author of one novel, The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois (Harper, 2021), and five poetry collections, including The Age of Phillis: Poems (Wesleyan University Press, 2020), winner of the 2021 Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize and recipient of the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Literary Work for Poetry; and The Gospel of Barbecue (The Kent State University Press, 2000), selected by Lucille Clifton for the Stan and Tom Wick Poetry Prize. Jeffers has won awards and fellowships from the American Antiquarian Society, the National Endowment for the Arts, the Rona Jaffe Foundation for Women Writers, the Witter Bynner Foundation through the Library of Congress, and she was a 2021 USA Mellon Fellow. She won the Harper Lee Award for Alabama's Distinguished Writer of the Year, and in 2020, she was inducted into the Alabama Writers Hall of Fame. She is currently a professor of English at the University of Oklahoma.

POETS




Saturday, August 21, 2021

Naming Ceremony by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers




 Naming Ceremony 

by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

VOICE


for Jerry Ward, Jr.


Shallow curve of the land
between master and owned
I have dismissed you until I come
upon kin     Since time my jaws
have collected accusations
from memory     No logic
grinding my teeth     I have not
been sold     The telling of the coppers
between fingers     (Skin)
I think that I have known freedom
This old story and yet I grieve
accented by our home
Your line reaching back
while I search for the cloth
of our mother’s  bodice
My line snapped     My mind
flying home at Ibo Landing
I think that I have known liberty in
the caverns I have lived in
Valley of Senegambia
Coast of Slaves    Gold    Ivory
(Loss)     The mud of the Bights
Benin     Listen to the talk
beaten by a man and his apprentice
a mortgaged youth     My body
lightened     mongreled currency
Biafra     beaten     Hear me
beaten down blood     free
unclaimed by garbled deity
My father’s call tricks
the music of stopped ears
The flesh of the young men is burning
One of us is Cain     the gardener
of perfidy     unblessed by lineage
the flesh of the young men is aglow



KISS

Wampum by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Memphis Resurrection by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Dreams of My Father by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

The Gospel of Barbecue by Honorée Fannonne Jeffers

Honorée Fanonne Jeffers / The Prophetess Sojourner Truth Discusses the Two Different Versions of Her Most Well-Known Speech, One Nearly Unknown and One Very Beloved Yet Mostly Untrue

Washita Battlefield National Historic Site by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Chorus of the Mothers-Griot by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers

Naming Ceremony by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers