Illustration: “Angel Eyes” from the “Soul Sista” Art Series

Sketch: Adrian Rhodes / @artbyrhodes

Digital Adaptation: Michael Jones/ Graphic Designer

 

In the spirit of Black History Month, below is an excerpt poem from the book “Songs Of The Tree, A Poetic Journey. It highlights the African diaspora and how many peoples of African descent were kidnapped from their native lands and forced to forge new identities and ways of being in many foreign countries around the world. Always with the inner spark of knowing they were connected and pondering if a reunion could ever be rekindled between them all….

 

DIASPORA

 

I’m going to 

Stretch out my arms and

Let the tips of my fingers

Touch the tips of those of

Displaced African women

In Central and South America’s

Belize and Brazil

 

And let them 

Teach me their ways of

Song and of lost Yoruban languages of Olukumu

Of dancing in 

Colorful Costume-ridden carnivals

With

Flowered floats and oversized masks

And ask them the question,

 

“Do you know our connection?”

 

I’m going to stretch out my arms and

Let the tips of my fingers

Touch the tips of those of

Displaced African women in Cuba

 

To discover their origins of folk religions like 

Santeria

And dance to the drum beats

Mixed with the

Shh shh of the Maracas

And follow along with the cabarets

And meditate with the ancestors

Of Havana’s Guanabaca

Slave district

 

With my journey ending on a hill

Paying homage to 

The Black Virgin of Regla

Amidst her church-

Iglesia de Nuestra Senora de Regla

Pondering the question,

 

“Do you know our connection?”

 

I’m going to stretch out my arms

And let the tips of my fingers

Touch the tips of those of 

Displaced African women in 

Haiti

And

Over a plate of rice, beans and plantains

Discuss our connections of

Revolutionary wars with

Touissant L’Overature leading

And

Questioning my sisters:

 

“Où as tu etait?” (Where have you been?)

And them answering

Paka sonje’ de pi ke le’ m’ap viv bo isit.(I’ve been here as long as I can remember.)

And with a sigh of relief 

For my final destination

I’ll stretch out my arms

And let the tips of my fingers

Touch the tips of those of 

Displaced African women in

Africa

And ask them to

Teach me the origins of Lucumi

Of finding contentment in

Arranged marriages

Of scorching days filled with

A woman’s work

And cool nights under the stars

Listening to 

Stories about our sisters

In Cuba

In Haiti

In Central and South America

And asking,

“Do they know our connection?”

And

“When will they make their way back to us?”