“…we circle him like a ring…” from Lucille Clifton’s poem ‘wife’.1
great spirit in heaven,
I salute you and the spirits at your feet.
I salute my ancestors and my dead.
I salute the holy, divine and ancestral Black mothers.
I salute the holy, divine and ancestral Black fathers.
And I salute the children.
I salute the saints, spirits, gods and guides known and unknown to me––
who walk with me, who come in peace and wish to support me.
I come to you not for sickness, not for death, but for assistance;
you who walk with me, and especially those of you who love me:
I kneel at your feet to receive your advice for the collective.
here are my offerings.
“queen of hearts”
she sang us lullabies, and we danced to them. as children we wove in circles the way they did that came on ships, that came in chains. sea island mother, infant whisperer, story keeper. who sings the holy mothers to sleep? who sings the singers to sleep? how long has it been since she rested? at the center of the ring, in the heart of the revolt, there is always a mother. the strongest part of the revolution is the softest. when she wakes, empires drown, the sea parts, the children dance.
Clifton, L. (1980). Two-headed Woman. The University of Massachusetts Press.
Queen of Hearts