for Baba Marcus
sweet is
the stillness that welcomes dawn
bird calls heralding the sun
sunrise over the river
each ripple of water
reflecting new palettes of color
more dazzling than the last
one day closer to fulfillment of Ancestral dreams
sweetness is
endless expanse of blue sky overhead
unobstructed rays of light
wide-winged birds soaring above in gentle arcs
seated on a low stump in a logging battlefield
at the edge of dense forest
with quiet certitude
in the end, the trees will win
the sweet life is
old folk humming softly in the porch shade of a hot day
the harmony of rocking chair creak
back and forth
back and forth
like waves on the shoreline
the ebb and flow of sea-foam tickling toes
soft sighs of sleeping baby
rise and fall of tiny chest
against one much broader, deeper
made wise by many rises and falls
and rise again
reincarnation of sweetness washes away residue
of stolen sugar cane
silver spoon rounding empty teacup
stuffy sitting room
disintegrating pages of false narratives
penned by subdued spirits and rotten teeth
engulfed in London fog
the sweetest sweetness is
time measured by music’s cadence
ground pulsating with rhythm
beloved bodies vibrating with bass line in the darkness
atmosphere thick with cologne perfume musk
dancing lovers melded in movement
hands pressed in passion on back and waist
face burrowed in the safe space between earlobe and neck hollow
aching with sweetness of what’s to come
the deep sweetness is
Full Moon lighting night's velvet canvas
amidst crowds of sparkling stars
illuminating bolts of brilliant lightning
backed by thunder's boom
night air animated with frog and cricket symphony
soft droplets dampen ground and skin
still warmed by afterglow of summer's heat
the deepest sweetness is
soft flicker of candleglow
casting shadows on nightfall
lighting ancient memory
drumbeats calling in the distance
the knowledge that even when alone
we are never alone
spirit swelling with faith and love
unmistakable whisper of ori at peace
yes, you are on the right path
burn the blood-soaked cane fields
We got all the sweetness we need
Author’s Note: I originally wrote this poem under an informal title this past spring (2023) for a friend following a period of time when we were supporting each other in giving up certain things. During that period, I’d given up sugar and, as reflected in the poem, was thinking a lot about sweetness and also how sugar came to be such a large part of our Western diets. (Short answer: chattel slavery.) I’m sharing this poem right now as I work on an essay about what those of us who are not Haitian or Black can learn from Bwa Kayiman / Bò kay Iman1 - the five day Vodou ceremony and war counsel which sparked the most active and successful phase of the Haitian Revolution: history’s most powerful coup against colonization, white supremacy and, of course, chattel slavery. The 232nd anniversary of Bwa Kayiman was last week, and I thought it would be fitting to share this poem, given that at the time of the ceremony and the revolution, the main export of Ayiti (formerly known as Saint-Domingue, and at the time one of the most lucrative colonies in the world) was sugarcane.
Among other scholars, Èzili Dantò of HLLN, #FreeHaiti believes the more common transcriptions Bois Caïman and Bwa Kayiman are incorrect, and fail to honor the manbo Iman or Inan who, along with Boukman, presided over the Vodou ceremony.
Thank you my antiracist fairy godmother! Honored you were moved. And yes agreed re: formatting -- I'm still figuring out the nuances of when it does/not show up correctly on different platforms/devices.
I love this Katherine. So sweet, like you.