Quaking Conversation

by Lenelle Moïse

I want to talk about Haiti. 
How the earth had to break 
the island's spine to wake 
the world up to her screaming.

How this post-earthquake crisis 
is not natural 
or supernatural. 
I want to talk about disasters. 

How men make them 
with embargoes, exploitation, 
stigma, sabotage, scalding 
debt & cold shoulders. 

Talk centuries
of political corruption 
so commonplace 
it's lukewarm, tap. 

Talk January 1, 1804 
& how it shed Life.
Talk 1937 
& how it bled Death.

Talk 1964. 1986. 1991. 2004. 2008. 
How history is the word 
that makes today
uneven, possible.

Talk New Orleans, 
Palestine, Sri Lanka,  
the Bronx & other points 
of connection. 

Talk resilience & miracles. 
How Haitian elders sing in time 
to their grumbling bellies
& stubborn hearts.

How after weeks under the rubble
a baby is pulled out 
awake, dehydrated, adorable, telling 
stories with old soul eyes.

How many more are still 
buried, breathing, praying & waiting? 
Intact despite the veil of fear & dust 
coating their bruised faces? 

I want to talk about our irreversible dead. 
The artists, the activists, the spiritual leaders, 
the family members, the friends, the merchants,
the outcasts, the cons.

All of them, my newest ancestors. 
All of them, hovering now, 
watching our collective response, 
keeping score, making bets. 

I want to talk about money. 
How one man's recession might be 
another man's unachievable reality. 
How unfair that is. 

How I see a Haitian woman's face 
every time I look down at a hot meal, 
slip into my bed, take a sip of water 
& show mercy to a mirror.

How if my parents had made different 
decisions three decades ago, 
it could have been my arm 
sticking out of a mass grave. 

I want to talk about gratitude. 
I want to talk about compassion. 
I want to talk about respect. 
How even the desperate deserve it. 

How Haitians sometimes greet each other 
with the two words, "Honor" 
& "Respect." 
How we all should follow suit. 

Try every time you hear the word "Victim," 
you think "Honor." 
Try every time you hear the tag "John Doe," 
you shout "Respect!" 

Because my people have names. 
Because my people have nerve. 
Because my people are 
your people in disguise. 

I want to talk about Haiti.
I always talk about Haiti. 
My mouth quaking with her love, 
complexity, honor & respect.

Come sit, come stand, come 
cry with me. Talk. 
There's much to say. 
Walk. Much more to do.

© 2010 by Lenelle Moïse. Shared here by permission of the author for classroom use only. Permission to reprint or use for other purposes must be secured from the author.

Lenelle Moïse is a poet, actress, visual artist, and filmmaker. Bio.

Photo by Vanessa Vargas.