To Lenora Gobert: for Rachel, nine-years-old, of the Buena Vista plantation, Louisiana
Oh Rachel, just nine-years-old
I wept when I read, when I was told
this fragment of your life’s story:
that at $250 Winchester valued you as collateral for his mortgage
that you died before you were 10, in 1832
that logic tells us you are buried at Buena Vista
Would you have lingered over the eponymous view, Rachel-nine-years-old
what did you see as you fetched and carried
as you weeded and sowed, as you hurried to and fro
till your little body gave up its soul?
For me and my Little One, just nine-years-old
Our liberty affords us the luxury of boredom
fretting over the mundane, procrastination, irritation
Did you wince as your hair was parted to be brushed?
Did you have a favorite song?
Like Winchester’s progeny I enjoy the freedom of the sunshine
without hard labor, without the threat of punishment for
dawdling my way through an errand
I can escape the scorching sun at will
and stare, unhurried, unhindered at the view before me
and dream
Today, Rachel just nine-years-old
Winchester’s ink-on-paper
Record of your death and
the very body that gave you up and nourished the earth lies here
to resist
those who would further ravage the land you toiled
and sicken those who continue to live long after you
Today there is a crowd of witnesses who
in your name will stand firm
against the irony of the promise
of Formosa-the-beautiful that is anything but
Accept my tears as libation, as honour
as they fall to the ground here in Africa
that their salt and water
would feed and nourish
the justice-spark in my own Little One, just nine-years-old
for she is loved and cherished (were you?)
For little people are meant for freedom
and it is for freedom that we are set free
Footnote:
This poem was written in response to a news article by Geoff Dembicki in The Guardian about how the very short life - and subsequent death - of the enslaved Rachel on the Buena Vista plantation is helping to build a case for environmental activists in their campaign against a fossil fuel company’s intention to establish a petrochemical plant. Lenora Gobert is a historian who works with the Louisiana Bucket Brigade.
BIO:
Shannon lived in Durban, South Africa, while keeping an eye on the rest of the world. Her poem, Petrichor, appeared in Pepper Coast Lit, Issue 2. Other publications include Ake Review, African Writer Magazine, with work forthcoming in The Birdseed and Rainbow Punch (print anthology). Shannon is a prisoner of hope.
Oh Rachel, just nine-years-old
I wept when I read, when I was told
this fragment of your life’s story:
that at $250 Winchester valued you as collateral for his mortgage
that you died before you were 10, in 1832
that logic tells us you are buried at Buena Vista
Would you have lingered over the eponymous view, Rachel-nine-years-old
what did you see as you fetched and carried
as you weeded and sowed, as you hurried to and fro
till your little body gave up its soul?
For me and my Little One, just nine-years-old
Our liberty affords us the luxury of boredom
fretting over the mundane, procrastination, irritation
Did you wince as your hair was parted to be brushed?
Did you have a favorite song?
Like Winchester’s progeny I enjoy the freedom of the sunshine
without hard labor, without the threat of punishment for
dawdling my way through an errand
I can escape the scorching sun at will
and stare, unhurried, unhindered at the view before me
and dream
Today, Rachel just nine-years-old
Winchester’s ink-on-paper
Record of your death and
the very body that gave you up and nourished the earth lies here
to resist
those who would further ravage the land you toiled
and sicken those who continue to live long after you
Today there is a crowd of witnesses who
in your name will stand firm
against the irony of the promise
of Formosa-the-beautiful that is anything but
Accept my tears as libation, as honour
as they fall to the ground here in Africa
that their salt and water
would feed and nourish
the justice-spark in my own Little One, just nine-years-old
for she is loved and cherished (were you?)
For little people are meant for freedom
and it is for freedom that we are set free
Footnote:
This poem was written in response to a news article by Geoff Dembicki in The Guardian about how the very short life - and subsequent death - of the enslaved Rachel on the Buena Vista plantation is helping to build a case for environmental activists in their campaign against a fossil fuel company’s intention to establish a petrochemical plant. Lenora Gobert is a historian who works with the Louisiana Bucket Brigade.
BIO:
Shannon lived in Durban, South Africa, while keeping an eye on the rest of the world. Her poem, Petrichor, appeared in Pepper Coast Lit, Issue 2. Other publications include Ake Review, African Writer Magazine, with work forthcoming in The Birdseed and Rainbow Punch (print anthology). Shannon is a prisoner of hope.
