The Silence of the Gonolek
One must use her wings with purpose,
and the gonolek knew her mission.
Feet on the ground, she would make her point.
We were dazzled by your crown;
For the world lacked a face sweet as yours
or a heart that burned with such color.
No one would confuse your cry
with any other whistler or canary.
All living things stop breathing to hear your song.
Voice determined, yet spun from silk.
Seamless and soft, you sang us awake
restlessly tangled in sheets of storm clouds.
We shelter on the ground shivering
as the rain slices through the bush branches.
Your demands echo in our brains
though you've finally flown away.
One must use her wings with purpose,
and the gonolek knew her mission.
Feet on the ground, she would make her point.
We were dazzled by your crown;
For the world lacked a face sweet as yours
or a heart that burned with such color.
No one would confuse your cry
with any other whistler or canary.
All living things stop breathing to hear your song.
Voice determined, yet spun from silk.
Seamless and soft, you sang us awake
restlessly tangled in sheets of storm clouds.
We shelter on the ground shivering
as the rain slices through the bush branches.
Your demands echo in our brains
though you've finally flown away.
for Miss Horne
6 comments:
Lovely, G.
Was it a yellow-crowned one?
Best part: "All living things stop breathing to hear your song." Impressive. I know that's not the point of the poem, but I find it the most beautiful. The sting of my own failure to write effective poetry is always lessened knowing you're out there delivering with excellence. Thank you again for always being so willing to share.
Dear Mr. J, You are so very good for my self esteem.
To clarify, for you and some others who have read the poem, I wrote this for one of the g-ddesses of song, Lena Horne, who died almost two weeks ago. I was first introduced to her on a mix tape (anyone remember those?) given to me by someone who would later be known as my Russian father. I found her again through the Dean Martin Show where her gift with emotive song was brought relentlessly, repeatedly, no-matter-if-you-begged me, into my living room.
When she died, I was surprised by how much it hurt to hear the news. As I get older, I suppose life events trigger something new; a warning, a better informed sadness, I don't know. I had to write something.
I read up on her life, and her being black shadows the way she views her career. She refused to take roles as a maid or some other stereotypical and "acceptable" part for an African American. She still felt some regret for her parts in some movies, parts that were cut out for certain audiences, knowing she was an "acceptable black" being light-skinned and very pretty.
I tried to honor her feelings as I went in search for a bird all her own (like Rita Dove's 'Canary' for Billie Holiday). The Yellow-crowned Gonolek comes from Africa and hunts mainly on the ground. It has a beautiful golden head (reminded me of the first headdress Miss Horne wore in 'Stormy Weather' - her famous rendition of the song reduces me to tears every time I hear it) and a gorgeous red under-belly with the black sort of wrapped in between the colors. It just seemed appropriate.
Thank you for reading. Cannot thank you enough.
G. I was just thinking, have you ever written an entry about why you always leave out a letter in the word representing a deity? Ex: Gd or G_dess. If not, perhaps that could provide subject matter for an entry, should you ever be short on ideas.
Oh, Mr. J... you've noticed I've slowed down my production. I guess I'm just reorganizing my priorities.
I've not written on why I leave out the "o" when refering to a deity... because it's a common Jewish thing. Jews feel you should not write out the name of Gd, or mishandle objects in which the name of Gd is written. Though I am not Jewish, my extended family is, and since I don't understand my relationship to a deity at this point in my life, I'm not about to go bandying His/Her/Its name around either. That's all.
Aw. And I was hoping for a whole tirade. Some sort of exploration of...I don't know what. But, I'll take what I can get. Hope you've had a good weekend.
When I first read it I thought perhaps the Gonolek was your grandmother. It is a very soulful poem. Thank you for showing it to me.
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