Remember me?

         I’m the woman you nailed to a tree

                 after the twilight died.

 

Carrie, you be still, now,

     don’t make no noise.

Mama will protect you

     from all the shoutin’ an’ screamin’

     an’ biddin’ that’s goin’ on

            right now. Hold on. Hold onto Mama.

     won’t be long now,

     they done had they lunch, 

     an’ somethin’ will happen to take

     the fear outta your bones

           an’ the sweat off of your eyelids

     an’ drain them to the sweet winds

     for the birds to eat. Somethin’ will happen:

 

Happens that I be a slave woman,

maybe that makes me property,

not a human bein’ like all

you who come to buy me,

see if I’m sturdy, can hold ground,

can withstand the elements, bear fruit

when the seed is in me, like the Lord’s land, 

sing for my supper when the seasons come,

give death the mortgage on my bones.

 

Don’t come near me! Stay away!

I’m not buyable yet, 

I’m a bit unleavened.

 

Still, Carrie, be still, child. Don’t cry, 

      don’t let them see you cry, honey, 

there’s a victory in that. Keep the tears

      inward, outta they sight.

Hold onto my apron, tear it, if you want,

      hold hard while we crush the evil

pushin’ its way through that crowd of shoppers

      yellin’ before us an’ standin’ there

mockin’ us with money an’ all the changers

      in the temple, but they all look good,

      don’t they? Nice coats an’ trousers, 

      bright shoes, sturdy hats. Ever seen

      a finer lookin’ peoples than that?

 

Evil be pretty sometimes, don’t it?

 

Money look good, even if it be for your soul. 

 

Souls cain’t be bought. 

I won’t be of much use to anybody

who buys me without my Carrie here. 

I be crippled, needin’ crutches: who gonna

pay for them? Or I will have to work 

the fields limpin’ about with my mind

catchin’ butterflies, when I should be

pickin’ cotton, ‘cause my soul be amputated

when you bought me without my Carrie

for a few dollars cheaper?

No, don’t, I beg, you, don’t touch me!

Stay back. I cain’t leave this block

in holo-cust!

 

That’s it, Carrie, hang tight; 

      My, your forehead be hot,

fever comin’ on I ‘spect, an’ your

      mother’s fever gone cold

makin’ it more dangerous when 

      it be exposed to the elements

that gather up ‘round her now, 

     this early, bright mornin’ 

spoiled an’ festerin’ in the mouths

     of all these happy buyers who need

the disease of your Mama’s wrath

     so they can recover from their own

dyin’. 

 

Dyin’ today if I be sold without my Carrie. 

I promise you that. 

 

Look on us before you lay

your money down. What we cost? $2500?

 

Good price. Buy what you breed.

 

Masters, Owners, Buyers, Fathers, Sons, 

Take vengeance on your dollar! 

God help me, I be His maidservant, 

I be His witness to this sale of womanflesh

in the twenty-eighth year of my delivery!

 

Carrie, look! Wipe up your eyes, child. 

See. They finished the biddin’. Money

be paid. We’s together, God heard my 

haltin’ words through the ears of these

deafened people; you an’ me from this strange

pulpit. Look lively, child. We be sold, 

but we ain’t bought.

Traveling

 

They done found me,

Lord! The done found me again!

I’m dead and they don’t know it.

Sometimes I don’t either.

 

Except the Spirit come

creepin’ in my body

like hot fire

and I burn and burn

all inside

turn to dust

blow away out over

they heads when they 

finds me cryin’ in a sack.

 

I listens

and listens:

I’m travelin’ in my bones

and the Spirit who swooshes out

before I get a chance to say 

Amen.

 

Oh, the wind! the sea!

I’m dead on this boat.

 

Go ‘way. Go ‘way, nigger! they says,

so I goes. Don’t touch me yet!

Got to get home to my mother!

Ain’t that what the Lord say 

when He rise from the dead?

Goin’ home to his mother?

 

Won’t somebody row this boat

out of hell?

 

Visions

 

Can’t be no slave forever,

not me! and my children 

all pretty and soft

all wet in they skin

moist like the sea air

they be buryin’ me in.

 

Can’t be no slave forever,

make way, Lord, here I come!

Here I am!

This heah boat they put me on

with my children

‘cause I tried to escape

from they dark breaths,

they glories, hallelujahs!

they fine houses and sweet fields,

they murders murders murders!

they coffins strechin’ in they smiles,

they come heah Peggy,

dress my little one,

then fix her somethin’ to eat,

maybe some cake and milk,

and mine’ sittin on the stairs

in the cold, in the dark,

waitin’ to do some waitin’ on

waitin’ for the milk to sour

and the cake to crumble,

hearin’ all this

without a word, a whimper,

eyes freezin’ in they dreams,

hungers freezin’ in they dark,

takin’ they dreams to supper

like candles meltin’,

after ‘while no more light,

they walkin’ softly

makin’ sure they seen and not heard

and they dreams screamin’

in they bright, soft eyes.

 

My soft little ones!

My children!

My John and Mary and Lottie,

brown and golden-black,

listenin’ in the dark,

bright in they Black!

 

But it be a gift, a gift!

Out of the misery 

I become blacker than the skin

of a tree in the rain, 

and I be rooted

in the rich black earth.

Out of me flies the swallow.

 

Lord, I’m here ‘cause I went:

with my little ones; we’re

all goin’ to somethin’ better.

They has to be somethin’ better,

and my death give me a chance.

 

Capture

 

Cain’t be no slave forever, 

No, Lord!

I’ve got wisdom and hope

and I don’t think about it, 

don’t believe it

don’t not believe 

don’t carry them around

in my misery

like sick animals.

 

Gotta let go! Gotta live inside death

in a wheelchair, if i must,

there must be some energy left in that!

 

Caught me in Philadelphia,

put me in a boat

down, down in the hollows 

of its ribs, in the hollerin’

of the sea

with my three little ones

cryin’ to me:

no, I lies.

They be silent,

no tears, no murmers,

no moans, no sighs.

 

And I knew then

that death gave me a chance,

a great salvation, 

a fine, early night.

 

So I waits. 

 

In the dark and dampness

I sat there ‘till my skin broke

and I held my children close.

 

The Killing

 

But that boat wasn’t meant 

for nothin’ but glory, 

and when it crashed into the sea,

I entered that water

like I was being baptised, 

saw my John’s head

stretch among the waves

and near him Mary

and near her Lottie, laughin’.

Oh, Lord! What a sight!

Baptized to the death!

 

I denounce you, Satan!

I denounce this unfree callin’,

I denounce shackles, bondage,

escape, darkness,

the quiet of the pain 

in my throat when I scream

for nothin’, nothin’ at all,

when I watch my children

sit on stairwells

in the dark

and ice forms

in they mouths,

I denounce the evil of rememberin’. 

I denounce pieces of property, 

pounds of pain. 

 

Nothin’ be free, but the misery.

 

My hands over they heads

was such a little matter,

‘jes takin’ them under

puttin’ them there

for the water to purify

for they own bloomin’

under the sea.

 

Lottie, she kicked a bit, 

but that be all. 

It be over. 

 

They be flowers under the water now,

Yes!

 

Lord, how cleansed I be!

When the water come rushin’

beatin’ ‘gainst my bosom

through me to them, 

I feel like I be givin’ suck

and the sea be my milk, 

and my healthy babies be fed

and wholesome and warm forever.

 

The Last Vision

 

I’m here now

in this place

don’t know it

but it moves, 

and they be water about:

‘nother boat. 

I can see a tiny window,

but the light hurts

and wants the dark.

Now and then some peoples

come and look at me, 

ask me if I wants to eat,

leave me some cornbread

and cold tea. 

 

They be crates and trunks here, 

like the other boat, 

and I think we be movin’. 

They found me in the water, 

I reckon, brought me again

in a backward time. 

 

I’m dead.

I know it ‘cause I’m happy. 

The children are flowers now, 

baptized in joy and hope; 

I shiver when I think 

of they beauty. 

Cain’t cry, ‘cause I be dead,

this old tarp ‘round me, 

my flesh rottin’, my bones

dryin’ out, my eyes movin’ 

through some kind of cheesecloth, 

like a fog. 

 

I’m goin’ to reach out now, 

soon, 

so my death

will stay away from my babies:

cain’t upset them now!

They’s pure. 

And these ghosts that come

and watch me in the night?

I’ll sing to them, 

like a star.

Chicago shanks…..

      Hung along the lake

            like churches; the rib awake

 

                  the groin of fasted days

                  for Lazaruses raised

                 from shanty towns, a phrase

 

of her like stitching wounds can make;

 

raw, the freshly killed alone

         the young obscenity of

 

             weening in the streets

             the sacrificial bleats

             of slaughters, meats

for mayors. She like love: the agony and the bone