René Depestre
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René DepestreCaribbean MotherFrom the very beginningthe sea puts you in cosmic harmony with all beings, all places, all plants and animals, rocks and rain, and all of the world’s enchanting stories. It is the original uterus the amniotic past the initial warm spring magical realism wound around the umbilical cord. At your school desk the sea teaches you to always be in cahoots with butterflies and dragonflies fish and hummingbirds the waters and pebbles of rivers revelries and sufferings of life. The school sits atop a cliff the Gulf of Jacmel is its vast blue neighbor in class the Caribbean Sea offers us the elsewhere which with its aura protects the indigo wonder of the sky and waves the contagious radiance of the foam tied to the fascinating mystery of the French language. The sea washes away the life in each word that Christopher Colombus’ adventure passed onto blackface minstrels or to whitewashed semantic traps: Indian, white, black, mulatto, yellow! There is a grand arc that vibrates with a double Creole and francophone bow‐string; there is the sea, mediator of French speech that like a mother unites in joyful measure islands and terra firma, flavors and spells of the homeland; there is the sea’s maternal abc’s placing underneath your sandal‐clad poet’s feet its vital impetus of salt and freedom. Damballa-WedoHere I am Damballah-WedoWater Black Stream Black I am the beating heart of the water I am the taut sex of the water A thunder rock in hand I drench a small branch of basil In a glass of white wine And I spray your shallow faces I spray your pale hysterias I water the cardinal points of your vices I crawl on my back I spin out my rada I glide I dance my Yanvalou at your house If you see a green snake Dance with the eldest of your daughters, it is me! If you see a rainbow passionately embracing her groin, it’s me once again! I change the eldest of your daughters into a rainbow! Now she slithers with my seven snakes Now she undulates in the sun of my vigor Now she makes the rounds of my sweet waters Now she kisses three times my Damballah And my We do my Wilibo my Wilimin I am Voodoo’s rainbow: I am vaudou-l’arc-en-ciel And the eldest daughter of an Alabama Judge Is going to lose her white bonnet on my shores! In front of the nightThe lady was not aloneshe also had a husband very stylish husband talking about Rakina and Corneig and Voltaire and Rousseau for the elder Hugo and the young Musse for Zid and Valery and a lot more The lady was not alone; She had a husband, A husband who knew everything, But to tell the truth knew nothing, For you can't have culture without making concessions. You concede your flesh and blood to it, You concede your own self to others; By conceding your gain Classicism and Romanticism, And all that our souls are steeped in. |