By Jaki Shelton Green
I am the delicate ventriloquist
the mammy museum is closed
to unworthy memorials
of diseased constitutions
does the stench of my death force you away
does my poetry inside your mouth taste like the last supper
does the swallowed. stolen key. rust in your mouth. like a nameless tornado
I am the delicate ventriloquist
unmasked mammy
crawling. nailing pennies in every corner
counting crows living inside hearts
become carcass of dead bird sassy womanchild
become sharp finger knife spared from hand of the mother
become bed for God (desses). who live here too
I am the delicate ventriloquist
firewalker. sunday sunrise. praise legs by night.
four women in the vineyard of nina simone.
strung across map. bloody trees. talking ropes.
damsel. vixen. lady. grand dame
weaver of hair. teeth. bones. snake whisperer.
dancing winds. blow museum doors wide open. mammies rejoice.
I am the delicate ventriloquist
faces of mothers appear in the moon. tonight. every night.
dark bruised puffy eyes. small circles where mouths used to be.
who stop to clear the bones from the path to the top of the mountain.
too many tongues hold back storm waters. lasso a crumbling last supper. crystal cups betray the wine. stain the mammy wail. skin becomes memory. measured skin. skin as clock. skin as rock. skin as nest. skin as third eye. skin as river rising. skin as fresh fish. unbridled portal. slippery currency. skin as border. burden. tree. swamp. brown bags. radio. gun. razor. planet. recreation. benediction. prayer. skin as flag. museum. playground. belt. purse. curse. diamond. skin as rust. torn lace. crossroad. fractured smile. light. gate. ground. skin as sky. sound. waste. thimble of joy. allergic reaction. flying carpet. cloud burst. prison. parachute. unreasonable doubt. confetti. confederate money. harriet tubman’s clock.
I am the delicate ventriloquist
the mammy museum is closed. the mammy museum is closed. the mammy museum is closed. skin as flapping curtain. noose as necklace. gunpowder as food.
The Importance of Arts, Culture, The Creative Process, and how this project resonates with you:
I strongly believe that creativity is medicine. I've witnessed the transformative power of the literary arts and humanities stretching beyond mere aesthetics, fostering community connections that create powerful bridges of engagement where we all gather and stand in our differences and "otherness" exploring and celebrating our unique perspectives, ideas, and expressions that tie us to each other in our humaness. Compassionate literary citizenship enriches the cultural and social fabric of our communities that build meaningful relationships and a sense of belonging that strengthens the possibilities for reaching beyond real and artificial boundaries.
What was the inspiration for your creative work?
My poem was written as a response to this quote by Malcolm X, "The most disrespected person in America is the Black woman. The most unprotected person in America is the Black Woman. The most neglected person in America is the Black women."
Tell us something about the natural world that you love and don’t wish to lose. What are your thoughts on the kind of world we are leaving for the next generation?
As a Black child growing up in the rural, segregated South, I was blessed, loved, and nurtured by a family and community that lived in respectful communion with the natural world. My grandmother taught me how to identify the medicinal herbs, roots, and branches that provided healing properties for the ointments and tonics she created. She taught me that the woods were a cathedral of holiness. I learned early on how to ask permission of the plants before we picked them from our gardens, permission of the streams and fish that fed us, permission of the sacrifice of chickens, pigs, deer, and cattle that fed us as well. The meadows were my secret spaces deep in the woods beyond creeks, wild strawberries, and wild blackberries. I'd go to the meadows as a child and listen to the trees, the small animals, and the ground itself whispering in communion. Those meadows and forests of my childhood are all gone... replaced by development but I am able to still find protected woodlands and riverbanks unscathed. I will teach my children's children everything that my grandmother taught me about having a soulful relationship with the earth. I don't ever want to lose my ability to hear the ground speaking through my feet or lose the ability to translate the language of thunder. I will teach my children's children as my grandmother taught me to walk gently on the path understanding that "what we keep keeps us". We are leaving an injured and tired world for the generations to come but I am hopeful. We must leave instructions for how to help her heal and not leave her helpless.
