Some Juneteenth/Summer Solstice poems
a coincidence by design
Eclipse/summer solstice/Juneteenth sonnet 2020
Some say we are in for grim times. They say
We should fortify our souls for the storms
Headed soon this way – put on the armor,
Set our sights on a distant unnamed star.
I am studying the constellations
Like our ancestors used to do. We stand
On their shoulders – holy ground. Through their eyes
We learn how they armed themselves and endured.
An annular eclipse coincided
With summer solstice this year. An omen
Of things to come, a lunar ring of fire
Not visible to seeking western eyes.
I saw it on YouTube. A ring of fire.
Let no man steal your joy, your sense of style.
***
Juneteenth/Summer solstice 2017
Sun Ra told us years ago
the planet was doomed -
yet we believed, deep inside,
that our exceptionalism
and our privilege
would pull us through
in the end - except it didn’t.
The doom we thought
we’d avert eventually
consumed us, along
with everything else.
I had a large garden plot
when I lived in the mountains.
Grew a row of sunflowers
from seed on the eastern border.
When they grew so tall
with flowers like crowns,
I named each and called
them my ladies.
Then one evening
in the valley of the lilies,
we were visited by a microburst -
strange weather in those mountains -
and every tall thing was leveled.
Each poem I write
is about these things:
love, tribe, and poetry.
There. You have the key.
No need to guess,
I’ll tell you what’s up.
I can’t escape this destiny,
and I cannot hide my pen.
***
Juneteenth/Summer solstice, 2016
A migration,
a journey by moonlight,
from one sacred state
to another –
move fast though,
’cause the night,
while well-lit,
is short, which means
no time for reading signs
and prayers for good fortune
on the road.
The shortest distance
between two points
is a straight line – or a tesseract
for time travelers among us.
Another year
won’t kill them,
and the cotton crop
demands their presence.
But this particular
convergence comes
once a generation,
so their next chance
will be less fortuitous –
as will ours.
A long day, a bright moon,
and a lost year.
And a journey
to bridge a gap in space.
***
A short poem
Here we are, the convergence of summer
solstice, “strawberry” full moon, Ramadan
midpoint, and Juneteenth, and I need to write
a poem about it, a sonnet, perhaps.
I’ve written summer solstice poems before,
the longest day, the shortest night, and what
that’s worth, but this year's conjunction is richer,
holier than the things I wrote before.
***
Morning Walk – Juneteenth/Summer Solstice 2014
I make my morning walk today,
it is the summer solstice, after all –
the first morning of summer,
the longest day, the shortest night –
But what good is that,
I say – a short night
is not worth a plug nickel
(my father used to say).
We love the night,
we make love at night,
sweet love we hope
will never end,
an endless night of love –
we dream pure dreams
at night, and pray t
hose dreams come true –
we plot and strategize
our plan of attack
in the wee hours,
at the midnight hour,
at night.
Of what value, then,
is a short night?
Crossing the bridge,
I shift my timepiece
from 88five to 103five,
“traffic and weather
together, on the eights,”
and the neurons start to fire
in rapid succession…
the tide is high –
portions of the shore
normally exposed
are submerged.
I pause and watch
as the crawling critters
flee the flood and seek
refuge on higher ground,
inching closer and closer
to the human walking trail –
I see tall stalks
of phytolacca americana,
polk salad they call it.
growing in groves
along the shore,
sprouting long green leaves,
greens my ancestors used to eat,
thrice-boiled,
as they headed north,
to illegally escape an immoral
oppression. “It’s poison
if you don’t cook it right…”
I can hear them whisper
through the soft rush
of the running tide . . .
my baby sister
(from a different mother
in a distant country)
is writing poetry
again, mostly in her letters.
I think about her as I turn the corner
onto Frances Scott Key Bridge.
She is the better poet,
she has the gift,
the power to apaziguar o dor –
ease the pain -
that’s what friends are for.
I’m nearing home,
my walk almost complete.
The longest day of the year
opens its arms before me.
“From the Shenandoah
to the Chesapeake,”
WTOP says on the radio —
all day long.