Exploring the Mystical Power of Friendship
Is it Serendipity? Fate? Or the inevitable colliding of time? What creates that mystical essence of kinship between folk who though meeting for the first time, experience a sense of familiarity, of connection that can only be engendered through the passage of time? This poem, Visiting the Village is a reminiscence of the profound ties established between friends who though meeting for the first time, experience a bond that suggests genealogical connections way beyond the coming together in that moment in linear time.
Visiting the Village
Maakye, bon jour, hola, how de do?
Many accents, many voices,
Our native tongues intermingled
Into the voice of the familiar
And we felt no need for a translator,
Bonded by the commonality
Of our experiences,
Our lineage forged in the bloodstream
Of our collective memory.
Race, history, gender and family merged
Into this village;
A tribe of native voices,
On this far corner of the Earth:
Ghana, Libya, Grenada, Trinidad, St. Lucia and Jamaica.
Our ancestral memories defined us,
Shaped us and called us to this place;
A gathering of sisters, paseros,
A neighborhood of friends;
Village folk dropping by for an afternoon visit.
We took it upon ourselves to dream,
To claim a place in the universe;
The far corners of the Earth.
We traced the footsteps of the past
And peered the clouds of the future, and
We agreed that the best is yet to come.
..from Bridges to Memory: Poems by Marva McClean 2007
Marva, I remember that village …. Abaye was the lady whose vision it was to hold on and nurture the African Rituals. I will look for her number and see if she is around. Nice… Nice ….Nice….
Thanks Rosie. I struggled to remember her name, even though I have the image of her in my mind. It was a wonderful place.