Spiritual Sunday
Tomorrow being the Annunciation–Christians believe the Holy Spirit visited Mary nine months before December 25–I share a series of poems on the subject by Lucille Clifton, that most motherly of poets. In “a song of mary,” Clifton captures the ordinariness of Mary’s life before Jesus, even as there are princes “sitting on thrones in the east/studying the incomprehensible heavens.” This Mary, dwelling like Joseph in far more humble surroundings, remembers back to a time before the wheels of destiny began to turn. The Mary in each of these poems appears to speak with a West Indian accent:
a song of mary
somewhere it being yesterday.
i a maiden in my mother’s house.
the animals silent outside.
is morning.
princes sitting on thrones in the east
studying the incomprehensible heavens.
joseph carving a table somewhere
in another place.
i watching my mother.
i smiling an ordinary smile.
In “mary’s dream,” Mary whispers yes to the divine invitation:
mary’s dream
winged women was saying
"full of grace" and like.
was light beyond sun and words
of a name and a blessing.
winged women to only i.
i joined them, whispering
yes.
In “holy night,” perhaps drawing on her own pregnancy experiences, Clifton describes a Mary who is dazzled and at first frightened by the light shining within her. By the end of the poem, however, she owns it:
holy night
joseph, i afraid of stars,
their brilliant seeing.
so many eyes, such light.
joseph, i cannot still these limbs,
i hands keep moving toward I breasts,
so many stars. so bright.
joseph, is wind burning from east
joseph, i shine, oh joseph, oh
illuminated night.
Finally, in “island mary,” Mary is an old woman who has lost a son and who consequently looks back and wonders, “could i have fought these thing?” Could she have walked away when voices sang in her sleep? Perhaps not becuase she imagines another young girl, like herself, hearing singing such as she herself once heard when a star chose her:
island mary
after the all been done and i
one old creature carried on
another creature's back, i wonder
could i have fought these thing?
surrounded by no son of mine save
old men calling Mother like in the tale
the astrologer tell, i wonder
could i have walk away when voices
singing in my sleep? i one old woman.
always i seem to worrying now for
another young girl asleep
in the plain evening.
what song around her ear?
what star still choosing
