times you just cannot name (not yet died) / the story of Aganju, the birth of Bennu
by KHALIAH D. PITTS
in Fall 2019
Aliana Grace Bailey, "Figure Expression," 2019
times you just cannot name (not yet died)
prompted by From an Island You Cannot Name by Martín Espada
it was some millions of years past
that your oldest grandfather, stood on / the berm of the Nile — then a sea —,
swinging bleeding fists
at the cracked skies
he, a man marked: Ghost, / shouted
“I AM NOT DEAD, YET!
YOU HEAR ME?!
I AM NOT DEAD!”
the hushed memories
pinned to your ribs says he was
here /now nowhere, / or everywhere / everywhere as air.
and it is this moment,
child of an oldest grandfather
from some million berms ago
from waters you will never see / and times you just
can. not. Name,
when you loudly claim / trying to explain
that You
are
not
dead
yet.
You are not yet dead. have not yet died.
the story of Aganju, the birth of Bennu
the movement. the movement,
the movement, the moving.
the moment
the stone that has laced fingers with the roots
deep deep roots
the moment they let go
and stone shifts in the belly
of a beast so broken and beautiful and
beside herself, beside, beside
side by side herself
that moment when loving becomes friction
and gems become water
hot water, hot water water water
the boiling. the boiling,
the boiling, the bubbling.
the acid that crawls with gnarled fingers from the depths of hell
from the belly, the belly of —
the taste of magma biting at the throat
the spewing, the spitting, the curses that are
thrown from the stone, broken
the gems, liquid,
the lovers torn asunder
the moment, the movement
the moving
the volcano
the angry, angry, angry
Mars, Vulcan, Ares, Horus
Aganju.
the screams, the avenger, the rapture
the fiery tongue thrust 'tween lips
the yelling
the anger
.
thehurt, really
the purge, really
the cleansing, really
the volcano is as much water as it is fire
the running, the run-off
the spilling
the wipe away everything in your path
the new new, new new
that comes from ashes,
the Phoenix, the Ouroboros
Bennu
.
Bennu with the bountiful belly
the beautiful beast bound to the breast of birth through death
the bathing
the volcano is much more water than fire
the tears tearing across the face of the earth
the crying, the tears, the tear
the release
the breath. the breath
the water
.
even volcanoes cry
have you noticed?
khaliah d. pitts is a storyteller, writer, culinary artist and curator. a philadelphia native + lifelong artist, her work is dedicated to preserving culture + documenting stories of the African diaspora, crafting spaces of liberation and joy. in 2016, she co-created Our Mothers' Kitchens (OMK), a culinary and literature project for Black folk, which was awarded a 2018 Fellowship for Socially Engaged Art courtesy of A Blade of Grass. khaliah is currently working on a variety of new projects including a collection of speculative fiction, a short film, + collecting kitchen stories from the far reaches of the diaspora.