SWEET HONEY IN THE ROCK
By Kathryn Takara
O mio Yemanja
Ha!
Alo- ha!!
Ha-a-a-aaa,
The breath, sacred to Hawaiians
Treasured by other people
But westerners sometimes forget.
This breath of communication
Expands as the wind travels
To family, friends, clan, communities, nations.
Listen, listen, feel.
Sweet Honey chants
“I’m gonna stand!
We will not obey wrong.”
Celebrate the breath
Like Sweet Honey, flowing out of the rock
Like black women
Strengthened by inner revolution
Outward absolution
“Ain’t gonna study war no more.”
Women gathering
Things, people,
Women making music, creativity
Women birthing
Nurturing with our breasts and pussies
Healing, letting go.
Sweet Honey sings
Repeats, renders, rescues
Transforms legends, myths, folklore,
History, jazz, blues.
Songs of love, war,
and life itself spreading…
Staining the listener
Like moon’s blood.
Listen to their breaths
Haunting in spirituals
Meandering through life’s currents and passages
Crevices and dungeons, gardens and oceans.
Listen to the voices
Colored blues and greens like sea glass,
Rough as coral
Smooth as the Pacific ocean
On a blazing summer day,
Varied as each breaking wave.
Voices textured as the sand
Mysterious as rustling windsong
Whispered in tall coconut trees
Messages of the ancestors
Inspiration of Esu.
Voices, illusive as the clouds
Yet real as the sturdy Koolaus.
Whispering, driving, clapping, laughing
Thumping, shouting
hollering their inspiration.
Listen to their rhythms
Weaving the African trickster tradition:
Use of counterpoint wisdom
Juxtapositions and contrasts
Serendipitous tones, improvised jazz riffs.
Voices skip rope
Call and response
Call and response jumps
Jump and escape worry, in space and time.
Listen to their message
Freedom, physical and spiritual
The upper room
Church on Sunday
Bourgeois blues on Monday
Martyrs like Biko inspire
But hell of poverty undermines hope
In our undervalued black communities
All over the world.
Heaven sings, “Don’t you see me comin’ to you?”
Listen to the voices, our voices,
Through Sweet Honey in the Rock.
Echoes of the ancestors
Of the sons and the daughters
Echoes of racism, anger and rage
Echoes of peace, of a survival tradition
Affirming
“We will not
Bow down to oppression.”
Wake up!
Listen as Sweet Honey in the Rock
Lifts up nature’s sanctification.
Be glad
In the resurrection
And the power
Of the word in music.
By Kathryn Takara
O mio Yemanja
Ha!
Alo- ha!!
Ha-a-a-aaa,
The breath, sacred to Hawaiians
Treasured by other people
But westerners sometimes forget.
This breath of communication
Expands as the wind travels
To family, friends, clan, communities, nations.
Listen, listen, feel.
Sweet Honey chants
“I’m gonna stand!
We will not obey wrong.”
Celebrate the breath
Like Sweet Honey, flowing out of the rock
Like black women
Strengthened by inner revolution
Outward absolution
“Ain’t gonna study war no more.”
Women gathering
Things, people,
Women making music, creativity
Women birthing
Nurturing with our breasts and pussies
Healing, letting go.
Sweet Honey sings
Repeats, renders, rescues
Transforms legends, myths, folklore,
History, jazz, blues.
Songs of love, war,
and life itself spreading…
Staining the listener
Like moon’s blood.
Listen to their breaths
Haunting in spirituals
Meandering through life’s currents and passages
Crevices and dungeons, gardens and oceans.
Listen to the voices
Colored blues and greens like sea glass,
Rough as coral
Smooth as the Pacific ocean
On a blazing summer day,
Varied as each breaking wave.
Voices textured as the sand
Mysterious as rustling windsong
Whispered in tall coconut trees
Messages of the ancestors
Inspiration of Esu.
Voices, illusive as the clouds
Yet real as the sturdy Koolaus.
Whispering, driving, clapping, laughing
Thumping, shouting
hollering their inspiration.
Listen to their rhythms
Weaving the African trickster tradition:
Use of counterpoint wisdom
Juxtapositions and contrasts
Serendipitous tones, improvised jazz riffs.
Voices skip rope
Call and response
Call and response jumps
Jump and escape worry, in space and time.
Listen to their message
Freedom, physical and spiritual
The upper room
Church on Sunday
Bourgeois blues on Monday
Martyrs like Biko inspire
But hell of poverty undermines hope
In our undervalued black communities
All over the world.
Heaven sings, “Don’t you see me comin’ to you?”
Listen to the voices, our voices,
Through Sweet Honey in the Rock.
Echoes of the ancestors
Of the sons and the daughters
Echoes of racism, anger and rage
Echoes of peace, of a survival tradition
Affirming
“We will not
Bow down to oppression.”
Wake up!
Listen as Sweet Honey in the Rock
Lifts up nature’s sanctification.
Be glad
In the resurrection
And the power
Of the word in music.
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Art Credit: Kevin Sipp