GOLOQUATIE FOR KAMAU

“No woman no cry….”  Song
itches unhearing ears
and laughter disconnects
the murmuring breeze.
Bob Marley sings, “Do you remember…?”
And we do.

The eight of morning “talks” that twinned
our midnight mares,
cold, library corners where we lost our ease,
and sleepless struggles behind borrowed
masks.
Who, who

could forget the frigid windows of the master’s voice
that walked us with impersonal stares back
to the fight
with “B”s
with books?
Back to the wise morning’s
dawning
light?

Yes, we too
“ate cornmeal porridge,” cold, as if by choice.

Once more we come to these slow
learning, eager halls
to celebrate Kamau, ancestral forms.
The Word Is Out. It walks sings talks rings.
Drumbeats raise
the rites that lurk beneath the surface
in our kraals.
Do you remember when
we displaced the norms?
The Griot does, and speaks above the fulsome praise.

Behind us are unsure crossroads. We step
bold again.
And washing salt from off our tongues
we look into the sun.
Our sails are ready for the helping wind,
the greening rain.
With roots refreshed with music,
we word-creators run.

And, “everyt’ing’s gonna be alright.”  Bob Marley sings.

—
Paula Ann Ellis. Retired pharmacist. Jamaican. Writing for decades—mostly poetry. Holds an MPhil in English (UWI, Saint Augustine). Married to Paul, two daughters, one son-in-law, one granddaughter.  This poem was previously published in the Sunday Gleaner of February 3, 2002.