testify

It might not be hard to imagine why this struck a deep cord in me this week, as it lays open the paradox of our lives — the tragic and the sublime.  As much as I can, I want to embrace both, which seems to include testifying to both, as the author describes below.

'Poem for the week' -- "testify":

i stand before you to say 

that today i walked home

& caught the light through

the fence & it was so golden

i wanted to cry & i lifted 

my right hand to say thank

you god for the sun thank 

you god for a chain link fence

& all the shoes that fit into

the chain link fence so that

we might get lifted god thank

you & i just wanted to dance

& it feels good to have food

in your belly & it feels good

to be home even when home

is the space between metal

shapes & still we are golden

& a man who wore the walk

of hard grounds & lost days

came toward me in the street

& said ‘girl what a beautiful 

day’ & i said yes, testify

& i walked on & from some

place a horn rose, an organ,

a voice, a chorus, here to tell

you that we are not dead

we are not dead we are not

dead we are not dead we are

not dead we are not dead 

we are not dead we are not

dead 

yet

-- Eve L. Ewing

From the author:

“In times of grief, it’s easy to take account of the world’s many hurts; poets like Ross Gay have taught me never to do so at the expense of its delights. I wrote this poem at the home of my dear friend Hanif Abdurraqib. It calls upon me to think of friendship and upon the reader to count the blessings of a day. It’s a nod to the Black church practice of testifying—of standing before a listener to bear witness to the ways you have been saved, blessed, and protected.”