VELVETS IN THE FIELD

As Ruth

Virtuous, with the strength of an olive branch inside

Her skin the color of ripened figs ready to burst

Her heart is always full

A flower turned into fruit

Petals and calyx fall away

Her sweat trickles like Greek nektar

Working in the sun just makes you a little sweeter

Patience

 

As a dove perched on a twig in Solomon’s vineyard she took her rest

With the faith of a mustard seed

Hidden and swallowed within her eyes of chestnut

She looked up to the second heavens

Resilient enough, strong enough

To dine on bees and wild honey as Sampson

But as broken egg shells, her spirit fragile

Our bones are made of calcium carbonate

They can be broken

 

Easily shaken by a rock thrown into still waters

A rose of Sharon budding

We keep on moving as if our hurt were never there

Has been forgotten

But on the inside you can rest assured it has left its mark

 

Her fingers brush past a field of morning glories

A calm passing she is up now

Her hair as wool from the blackest sheep

Delicate, but standing firm as she encounters a calm hello from the wind

She shall not be moved

 

Settling into a quiet place

An entry way marked with the blood of a lamb

The death angel will pass over

A place of restoration

The doorstep a slab of stone

 

Gentle blushing flowers with slender green stems

In a glass /vɑːz/ annunciated

Centered on a round table of spinel

Fragrant and dripping of saccharine

 

Coming forth from the waters of purity cleansed now

Watered from the natural springs of Andros

Atoms of oxygen and hydrogen grace your body

Cocoa butter a second skin

 

We pass down traditions of cleanliness

What they call self-care today

It is we who showed you the way

We are like swans birthed

Never entered into the stage of an ugly duckling  

We were made perfect

Rachel’s womb was blessed

The seeds of life saved from the Garden of Eden

Lives deep within our wombs encased

 

Sour cherries become sweet when touched by your hands

Mall berries pressed and aged into wine

Divinely placed in jars of glass and old ice cream containers

 

If I only see your eyes, that is enough

Your lips are the likeness of garnet

In your house, pillars of amethyst

Dancing across floors of Chalcedony

Your legs long like a bird of secretary

Face touched with the brushes and minerals of Clinique

Diamonds are not the only precious stones

Our smile breaks through a canopy of green

This willow will not weep

 

A veil of tourmaline adorns your shoulders

Your chest is dressed white

Like an African pygmy falcon, your shape shifts

 

We have no master, but a loving father

A river flowing with milk and honey

He provides always

 

You will call me by my name

Address me correctly

Approach me humbly

Enter my courts

I dub thee sir woke

Javanna Cumberbatch

(She/her) Javanna Cumberbatch is a product of a baby blue pillowcase stuffed with cotton. Lovingly. she was sheltered as a child, rather protected so that her morals, the things instilled from TBN and PBS Kids to name a few, remained intact. She was cradled with the soft still voice of her mother, and serenaded by songs sung. From her own lips at times.

The moments that she was let loose, was somewhere safe. The second home of her mother’s mother. An island ‘2 miles long by half mile wide.’ ‘Each square inch filled with pride.’ Whose waters ‘sparkle like a jewel in the sun’ to this day. Line fishing with a friend near the dock. Times cherished and long gone, but never forgotten.

She went to her first Junkanoo at the age of 21, but she was not unfamiliar with the sounds of cowbells, and the families that went for battle on Bay Street. ‘Gimme My Culture.’ The land of my home always giving. Sapodillas and mango trees everywhere you turned. A garden truly. Separated islands and cays, but under one name we pledge our allegiance. A real place. Protected and covered by grace. In its natural state it shall remain. The Bahamas.

Javanna is a student now at The University of The Bahamas. Afforded the opportunity to attend. Amongst other things she is a woman of few words spoken, but a young lady of many words written.

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Flight

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I do not fall