even the sun goes down
heroes eventually die
horoscopes often lie
and sometimes why
nothin is for sure
nothin is for certain
nothin lasts forever
but until they close the curtain...
Deidre, are you gonna cry all the way home?
(Outkast + Iain "my ride to Philly" Pollock)
I woke up this morning in a gorgeous ghost town. Like the poets I love had been raptured off and I was left behind with Nandi's iPod waltzing matilda all over my tender places. Then, slowly, a few familiar faces emerged from the open rooms. The tears dried and I started to pack.
What a week. What a place. Have I ever felt so drained and so full at the same time? During our final workshop, Carl Phillips took us outside to the covered benches, and in the middle of workshop it poured down rain. Then the sun came out and filled every raindrop with light.
Graduation was even more beautiful. Janice preached her trial sermon from the Cave Canem pulpit with that awesome salute to us third-years. Annette took us to church with her awesome interpretation of "Count Your Blessings." Rachel's slide show was incredible. Thank you for capturing our light. Thank you Ashaki and the second year fellows for the touching ceremony, the lovely CDs, photos, and postcards. Thank you Toi and Cornelius, Alison and Sarah, Amanda and Remica. Thank you Carl and Claudia and Colleen and Ed, Ms. Shange and Claude. And fellows. Thank you fellows.
Seventeen poets broke the chain last night. We are unleashed. We are bark and whimper and a warm, wet tongue on your hand. Cave Canem is truly, truly a HOME for black poets. But everyone has to leave home sometime.
So maybe, Iain, a few tears will fall. But just for a moment. And then the sun will light them up.
ready for lift-off
'04, '07, '08