Negro Cemeteries - Afua Cooper
A man walks on his farms
the morning after a thunderstorm
He sees broken headstones pushing through the earth
He rubs the mud off
and sees the inscriptions
like hieroglyphics
reveals names, dates, ancestry
a cemetery in a field of corn
The local museums say it’s an old ‘Negro’ cemetery
And all over
‘Negros cemeteries are surfacing
appearing in potato fields
appearing in wheat fields
appearing in fields of corn
Like Osiris they rise from the earth in green resurrection
African skeletons shake the dust from their bones
Skulls with rattling teeth
recite litanies of ancient woes
Tongues pout where none existed before
and speak in funerary language
Griots rise from their graves
and recount the stories of their journeys
Hafiz tongues uncleave
and recite the surahs of the dawn
Babalawos emerge from the storm
and divine with their shells and stones
I see the drummers they come
they run and they come
They play the talking drum
The bata drum
The long drum
The funde
The kente
sending electric messages across this land
Toussaint Louverture rises from his dungeon tomb
and prohesies blood and fire
and he says
“If a fire make it born and if a blood make it run”
And a woman names Dorinda sits on her tomb
a pipe clenched between her teeth
smoke curling from her lips
as she recites and recites and recites the stories of her many passages
and the stories of her many, many, many, many, many transformations
and all over
In Halifax in Havana in Montego
in Rio in Edmonton
in Kingston in Kingstown
they say
“Give us strengths. Give us strengths”
And we say
“Rise up fallen fighters rise up fallen fighters
Rise up, up, up, up, up, up”











