NEGUS 2
-for Kamau Brathwaite
It is
It is
how you slash and burn an entire lexicon
to rule among the harbingers of language;
how you trust yourself to the trance of words,
yet sound your oumfô for the dispossessed,
the voiceless.
It is
evening
now.
If only for a while,
come to this Kingdom
where crows
do not fly;
the woo-dove builds
her nest in olive branches.
Here the plumed basilisk
finds no entrance,
for in these streams, forests, rivers,
webbed feet do not walk on water;
only the wounded
pierced by love.
Come to this Kingdom
where dry bones sing,
and graveyards spring
fresh flowers everywhere.
Summon Esu, if you will,
bring Namsetoura,
black Sycorax.
Call the Orissa from the vévé.
All are welcome to this place,
for here are fountains
and fountains of grace.
You who were born to slow the pale horses/
white deaths of our freedoms,
take your laurels now:
leaves of the Evergreen Tree
ginger lilies,
Pride of Barbados,
bright red hibiscus.
Look how fireflies glow
amidst this foliage
and how they dance
to the song on the night wind:
Kamau, Kamau,
your name lives on
in the mouths of our children.