Cyril Dabydeen

DISCUSSING COLUMBUS

… All the peoples of the world are human”
(Bartholomé de las Casas, 1474-1566)

I talk in tongues of newness,
I fulfill a rage without disdain;
I am the voice within, I cringe,
Coming to an understanding
Of who I am, where I am going next;
This Columbus in me, smashing the waves
Into smithereens with bare hands…

Next, making much ado about Bering Straits,
Talking myself hoarse at the zenith
Of a totem pole, or grimacing at the bear
In the sky… I am a shaman at ease
Discussing treaties with more than the RCMP,
A constitutional accord, this bleeding self’s disdain,
Being partridge and beaver,
Or all of spruce and jackpine.

Still making memory out of nothing,
Collecting cambium and spitting it out
At the face of the Great Spirit,
The sky golden, a rainbow’s own crossing;
The sunset falling under -
This cave, again a sudden divide,
As I linger and laugh at other boundaries
Which I do not understand…

Living with the centuries’ folds of skin,
Other emblems like shale, rock, an entire shield -
My canoe’s surfacing at the heart of a lake;
And the partridge yet hops about in the dark,
The sun’s pitch-blackness…
Across this Turtle Island…

Drink in me, I entangle and mesh
All the regions as one - bracing myself
With a tightrope as more waves come in,
The ship’s own somersault -
The ground breaking at the horizon,
The sails’ language, which I repeat or memorize…
On a deserted but peopled land.