TRANSFORMATION
Bare feet on red clay earth
dance the rhythms of the
falling rain – drums pulsing –
the sound of existential angst.
Hands clap the vibration into
splendid song until dusk;
voices rise in exultation
praising another transformation –
man to blackbird –
man to dust.
The inspiration for this poem comes from an experience that I had with a friend of mine, one of the people to whom I have dedicated this book, Tatchöl. He works as a teacher of African drum and dance at Yale University. On the last Sunday of each month, he holds a healing drum circle for people who attend his drum and dance classes. As I recall, these healing circles were therapeutic. I have heard it said that, in certain places in Africa, people "dance their prayers". As I would learn later, this is precisely what his healing drum circles were all about.
Four or five years ago, around late summer/early fall, Tatchöl's uncle passed away in Guinea. Tatchöl called a special drum circle to help he and his family heal from the loss and raise money for the funeral. The drum circle was very emotional and, the dancing and drumming, quite beautiful and passionate.
In speaking with Tatchöl later, I learned that the Baga people of Guinea believe that when a person dies, his/her spirit is not laid to rest, but rather, transforms into another living thing--be it a bird or other creature. The dancing, drumming, and singing paid homage to his uncle's life and celebrated his transformation to a new life form. Although this idea does not fit with the beliefs my family holds, I could appreciate the beauty and sentiment behind the idea.
So, the images from this poem, "Transformation," come from these ideas and these memories. I took a bit of license and imagined what the healing drum circle may have looked like in Guinea--a celebration in bare feet on the red clay, inside a village on a rainy day--drums, claps and voices rising afternoon into night. Check out the following video to get a sense of the way this scene may have looked:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cZV-Bja3Hc
The image of the transformation - "man to blackbird" - belongs to an image in my own memory, however. Several years ago, I attended a family funeral and crossed paths with a family member whom I had never met before. Let's call her Victoria. During a brief conversation, she shared her own insights about life, death, and ancestors. Despite being a devout Christian, she expressed an idea which made a tremendous impression on my memory.
She recalled a photograph of my father, my brother and me taken in Virginia standing on land which has belonged to our family since the times of slavery. Many generations of men in our family made their living fishing and crabbing on the water surrounding this land. Victoria suggested that the blackbirds on the water in the background of this photograph were ancestors returned to protect us. This is the genesis of a related poem from my first book, Contemplating Eve. In this poem, quoted below, I see the "black sink and swim birds" as ancestors "in the shadows". This image has followed me into A Poet Speaks of Empire.
I heard my spirit's echo
on the water
Echoing
generations of toil
on the water
without a single regret
black sink and swim birds
on the water
in the shadows of great men
To think, these highly evolved birds were returned ancestors, like angels, looking over us, protecting us, on the water, under the water and in the sky. What a powerful metaphor!
More to come...
