Monday
Jan102011
L’Union Fait La Force for the people of Haiti
Monday, January 10, 2011 at 06:30PM
by jessica Care moore
Being black and free
Is a fragile state.
We. With indigo blood.
cotton tongues.
Cacao skin.
We. Simmering beneath the fire
of a brewed coffee of 1791
We. like the cruelty of bitter sweet sugarcane fields
That plantation our children’s
voices and teeth.
We. Still being pulled from beneath our homes.
We. Displaced. Unsure if our families are dead.
We want to see their bodies. We want proof.
We want them back.
We know pride can get you killed.
We. Children of somebody’s gifted God.
We the Ancient African. We, who saved you from slavery.
We. Who understood our value
Before being a global citizen
was en vogue.
We with nothing to do but survive.
Rebuild our communities.
Put food on our families tables
We are millions, homeless at home.
digging ourselves, away from the
Dead, the dehydrated, the unborn, the delivered.
We are the holy ghost believers.
We are the holders of ancient ritual and truth.
What is the formula for this level of mourning?
How do we articulate the numbing, the confusion,
The trauma of war, of natural disaster.
There is no easy way to speak about the violence of rape.
A universal crime against women and girls, increases
Daily in camps as we drink and party and
Complain about the recession and our mortgages.
This is a test of our humanity on the world stage.
Who shall we blame, as we are opened up again
Meteor sized holes in the hearts of our capital city
We forget that death is a problem
for the living.
We. Ocean People.
We simply need clean water for our babies.
Haiti/gave us Julie. She is a nurse. At 21. She didn’t
Need to take a board test to be certified in the
United States, because in Haiti the
Free nursing program was unparallel.
She knew Haiti as a beautiful place.
With good food and perfectly warm nights.
She is the daughter of La Vallee De Jacmel
Let me tell you.
They don’t show the beauty on the news
She dreams of the countryside where we fed ourselves.
From our own farms. When Haitians bought rice from
Haitians. Before the factories and US interest and imports.
She remembers a people that used to fish and waited
For no one to do anything for them.
Colonization is not new news.
Haiti is no longer headline news.
Guetty. A brown starry-eyed Haitian filmmaker has
returned home to a night that is still and quiet
Her heart is sleeping in her memory. This blinding light
A half moon mirror, covers and reflects
A broken, but resilient city.
Disorganization from non-governmental organizations
Bring confusion and indifference.
There is little or no effective relief effort in place,
after a year.
She is asking us. American Africans to stand up
For Haiti. She is asking us to remember her forefathers
Who snatched their independence from the French
And brought back 800 American Slaves to Haiti
To live free.
She is asking us to make a promise to help rebuild
To the people who promised to fight for the freedom
Of the African Diaspora.
She is asking us to simply become the people
we say we are on
Sunday mornings at our churches.
Saturday at our Synagogues.
After Juuma on Fridays.
What do the God fearing fear, if there is
no place for the children of Abraham
and Moses?
Which new religion has no place for the poor?
We. Too rich. Too self consumed.
To see ourselves. Our own children dying
From dehydration and hopelessness in our
Own arms.
The nurses son is now a man. Traveling from Brooklyn to Haiti
8 days after the earthquake. Organizing the shipment of
Medical supplies and unassembled tents
Sitting in an airport for days. Untouched.
Where are you Toussaint L’Ouverture of 1804?
My removed symbol of Haiti has always been
One of courage.
In March, there was/is still little relief on the ground.
As he continued his job of removing debris for the
Reconstruction of schools.
Dismembered brick with no direction, no place. Just piled
In the streets blocking traffic to the volunteers attempting to
Get to the Epicenter.
We eat well with taped American mouths
While the Haitian lower middle class
Suffers from the red sticky unorganized ugly of politics. We cannot run
from our own history repackaged and sold to us
by outsiders. broken down into 21st century caste systems
the new gentrified slavery is alive in Brooklyn, Detroit,
Chicago.
You haven’t seen it?
The natural disaster will not be in the cracked earth of
This beautiful, resourceful country.
It will be in the turned back bend of an inevitable
after-shock of abandonment by the Wealthy Corrupt
World Governments.
Cholera is not going to infect or kill more
Than half a million people in Haiti.
But not having health care will.
We. Are the Ancestors of a
Just Do Culture.
We the offspring of optimism
We. The rebellious line of plantation burners.
We. Practitioners of Voudoun.
We. the deities of forgiveness
We. Sequined stories beaded inside the
Flags of artist, Jean Joseph Jean-Baptiste
We the rebellious line of the forsaken.
We the language of Kreyol
We ten thousands seven hundred and fourteen
Miles of black nationhood.
We destiny driven. We must wear the
coat of arms and extend ourselves past our own
worries and help rebuild this nation.
We must never forget the 144,000
Buried beneath Iwa’s waters.
We must dance in the rebel
Footsteps of Petro
Place love back deep into our
people’s history.
We must prove.
L’union Fait La Force
Unity makes strength
& the fragility of freedom is always
worth the fight.
Jcm 12:53pm Brooklyn.
December 6 2010
Being black and free
Is a fragile state.
We. With indigo blood.
cotton tongues.
Cacao skin.
We. Simmering beneath the fire
of a brewed coffee of 1791
We. like the cruelty of bitter sweet sugarcane fields
That plantation our children’s
voices and teeth.
We. Still being pulled from beneath our homes.
We. Displaced. Unsure if our families are dead.
We want to see their bodies. We want proof.
We want them back.
We know pride can get you killed.
We. Children of somebody’s gifted God.
We the Ancient African. We, who saved you from slavery.
We. Who understood our value
Before being a global citizen
was en vogue.
We with nothing to do but survive.
Rebuild our communities.
Put food on our families tables
We are millions, homeless at home.
digging ourselves, away from the
Dead, the dehydrated, the unborn, the delivered.
We are the holy ghost believers.
We are the holders of ancient ritual and truth.
What is the formula for this level of mourning?
How do we articulate the numbing, the confusion,
The trauma of war, of natural disaster.
There is no easy way to speak about the violence of rape.
A universal crime against women and girls, increases
Daily in camps as we drink and party and
Complain about the recession and our mortgages.
This is a test of our humanity on the world stage.
Who shall we blame, as we are opened up again
Meteor sized holes in the hearts of our capital city
We forget that death is a problem
for the living.
We. Ocean People.
We simply need clean water for our babies.
Haiti/gave us Julie. She is a nurse. At 21. She didn’t
Need to take a board test to be certified in the
United States, because in Haiti the
Free nursing program was unparallel.
She knew Haiti as a beautiful place.
With good food and perfectly warm nights.
She is the daughter of La Vallee De Jacmel
Let me tell you.
They don’t show the beauty on the news
She dreams of the countryside where we fed ourselves.
From our own farms. When Haitians bought rice from
Haitians. Before the factories and US interest and imports.
She remembers a people that used to fish and waited
For no one to do anything for them.
Colonization is not new news.
Haiti is no longer headline news.
Guetty. A brown starry-eyed Haitian filmmaker has
returned home to a night that is still and quiet
Her heart is sleeping in her memory. This blinding light
A half moon mirror, covers and reflects
A broken, but resilient city.
Disorganization from non-governmental organizations
Bring confusion and indifference.
There is little or no effective relief effort in place,
after a year.
She is asking us. American Africans to stand up
For Haiti. She is asking us to remember her forefathers
Who snatched their independence from the French
And brought back 800 American Slaves to Haiti
To live free.
She is asking us to make a promise to help rebuild
To the people who promised to fight for the freedom
Of the African Diaspora.
She is asking us to simply become the people
we say we are on
Sunday mornings at our churches.
Saturday at our Synagogues.
After Juuma on Fridays.
What do the God fearing fear, if there is
no place for the children of Abraham
and Moses?
Which new religion has no place for the poor?
We. Too rich. Too self consumed.
To see ourselves. Our own children dying
From dehydration and hopelessness in our
Own arms.
The nurses son is now a man. Traveling from Brooklyn to Haiti
8 days after the earthquake. Organizing the shipment of
Medical supplies and unassembled tents
Sitting in an airport for days. Untouched.
Where are you Toussaint L’Ouverture of 1804?
My removed symbol of Haiti has always been
One of courage.
In March, there was/is still little relief on the ground.
As he continued his job of removing debris for the
Reconstruction of schools.
Dismembered brick with no direction, no place. Just piled
In the streets blocking traffic to the volunteers attempting to
Get to the Epicenter.
We eat well with taped American mouths
While the Haitian lower middle class
Suffers from the red sticky unorganized ugly of politics. We cannot run
from our own history repackaged and sold to us
by outsiders. broken down into 21st century caste systems
the new gentrified slavery is alive in Brooklyn, Detroit,
Chicago.
You haven’t seen it?
The natural disaster will not be in the cracked earth of
This beautiful, resourceful country.
It will be in the turned back bend of an inevitable
after-shock of abandonment by the Wealthy Corrupt
World Governments.
Cholera is not going to infect or kill more
Than half a million people in Haiti.
But not having health care will.
We. Are the Ancestors of a
Just Do Culture.
We the offspring of optimism
We. The rebellious line of plantation burners.
We. Practitioners of Voudoun.
We. the deities of forgiveness
We. Sequined stories beaded inside the
Flags of artist, Jean Joseph Jean-Baptiste
We the rebellious line of the forsaken.
We the language of Kreyol
We ten thousands seven hundred and fourteen
Miles of black nationhood.
We destiny driven. We must wear the
coat of arms and extend ourselves past our own
worries and help rebuild this nation.
We must never forget the 144,000
Buried beneath Iwa’s waters.
We must dance in the rebel
Footsteps of Petro
Place love back deep into our
people’s history.
We must prove.
L’union Fait La Force
Unity makes strength
& the fragility of freedom is always
worth the fight.
Jcm 12:53pm Brooklyn.
December 6 2010
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