I wish I had something insightful or even halfway intelligent to say about this piece. But I don’t. I mean, I could go on and on about the beauty of how this poem is crafted, the way Ernestine Morrison weaves the words together. But that feels vapid at best. Because it’s what those words are saying that is important.
Because this poem is extraordinary. Powerful and defiant, but also born out of generations of trauma, indignities, and micro-aggressions. Words that are telling a story that I am only just beginning to understand. So I will listen, and learn. And I will absolutely be looking up every name Ernestine Morrison mentions, because I’m sure they are extraordinary women who I really should know. And while I can appreciate the craft behind this work of art, I appreciate even more the window it is giving me into a lived experience that I know nothing about, but one which I’m trying understand better.
Suggestions for artists I should check out? Please contact me with your ideas. I hope you enjoyed your daily helping of art!
