I don’t remember the first time I heard Nina Simone I don’t - TopicsExpress



          

I don’t remember the first time I heard Nina Simone I don’t remember what i was doing, there was no remembered witness to my doings. But it seems as if I’ve known her forever. She who has moved through mornings and midnites through deaths and dawns to document our Bones. Blood. I remember the last time I saw her perform in Philadelphia. She arrived on stage breathing a quiet grace. She stretched out her hands to us all, those hands neither mother or daughter. Father or Son. But family. Full of scriptures. Carousels. Courage. A courage that made us glimpse ourselves, celebrating ourselves. Our lives instead of our massacres. So I am here to honor a woman who honored us all with her songs and poetry And Miss Nina. Queen Mother Nina. Was one of the blessed ones who was smart enough to study America up close, who was Blacker than our unhurried laughter. How to honor a woman whose mouth was a blue sash of rain, raining convocations of flesh; How to make you hear her voice downpouring yellow butterflies; How to summon those fastidious hands, playing without eyes or tongues, those hands that got up in the nite, followed voices that waited in the dark for songs being sung from chandeliers? Don’t ya know fantastic rumors of chords abound in her fingernails? I guess I will just praise her mouth her voice her hands footprinting us together on this July* morning. Where the spaces between us smile; I guess I will lift up My eyes to this extraordinary Musician. Poet. Artist, tasting the sea with her hands. I guess I will just say Listen. Hear the incredible crease of her laughter. Listen. Listen, to her exact wings strumming myths from clouds. Listen. Listen. Listen, to her breath traveling through our bloodstream. Listen to this woman of prayer and blues this woman of radiance and mist this woman of prophecy and praise this woman of trees and parasols grabbing us up from this house of American pain. her intellect kissing our hearts. And she brought us life She same strumming Sweet life, aye, aye, aye, aye bringing us closer to all that is holy. She dared us to love this flesh to pick ourselves up and become thunder and our flesh became Black Hummmmed Blackness Hummmmed yeah yeah yeah to be young gifted and Blackkkkk Hummmmed i put a spell on you… And it happened thusly because Nina Simone with her voice with her love with her genius with her laugh with her truth with her passion made us remember our Blood our House our skeleton our smell Gave us back to the stars And she became like Nut arching over us, Her feet and hands placed on this western stage made us travel so far toward the East that we met ourselves all over again. Amen. Amen. Amen. Awoman. Awoman. Awoman. Ndichia Ndichiaaa Ndichiaaaaaa (you woman close to the Ancestors)
Posted on: Tue, 10 Sep 2013 11:09:55 +0000

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