The morning sky cobalt and emerald,
a ghost river and a ghost shoreline without litter,
and then shadows of decrescendo and allegro,
a challenge that brings fortissimo to daylight.
Here comes the man at the edge of the curve with his kora,
the duck of summer suddenly heavy with the arias of opera,
the relief of agogos, slit drums, seed pod shakers,
dancers coming from the brush and thorn, the grass and tree line,
djembe drums, talking drums, schamanen trommel,
the heartbeat of movement, the rhythm of shells and bracelets
and here comes the women with their adunga stringed harps
bringing their possum of truth. The wind slips in, leaves sing,
love and comfort, a hug, a clapping of stone:
memory ghosts, food and friends—rejoice, rejoice, rejoice.
| Copyright © 2021 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
Glorious! To read this poem is to bathe in delight, to immerse oneself in wonder! Magical. Enchanting. Cinematic. Symphonic. Kinesthetic.
ReplyDeleteYou are too kind--thanks so much. I'm so glad you enjoyed the celebration.
ReplyDeleteI was recalling the ritualistic rhythmic energy of the second stanza and was led, as if by an outside force, back to this brilliant poetic party of sound and movement. I find myself haunted by the mystery of the memory ghosts - is this something specific to African culture?
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