Belovèd

Belovèd

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Here am i splashing in this dark water of the double
dead half. way from Goree to West Point Pico Teneriffe and Cattlewash
Barbados.  jump back. ward overboard thru this one moment in the crack

& netting fence to keep us in to keep us out four hundred years ago .
each forward wave i now will grow take me back another rest-
less hundred henchmen years.  each back i break will hardly take

me farward to yr arms now cold & wheel & tempest-
toss(ed) upon the limbo deck that slant you down and leave
you wreck w/in the tangle saltweed dungle dungeon of this abugrave

And so i lose you.  Asua
you who remain unloose on board this shrouded vessel with its grieve-
ing sound(s).  who carry w/you memories of yam of cooking pots
red rites of circumcision passage among the darken rocks along the Korle-

gonnu shore. the amankrado songs of village home & hoom & oum-
fo growing from yr uplide downside midnight roots.  It was the sound
of all these chains on board that ship.  twisting in groan & starkle roar
that really tek me from you.  cut-way my trouble light.  light dark-

ness in the groin & belly  bottom of dat prism.  my lips now bruise
from brutal sailor blows. this block of blues
across my face.  this singing net of whisper  whips  across my black
chain to a water house in constant flowing forward motion rock-

ing back. ward and no way no way into yr softly kiss. ing lip & lapp-
ing coim of wave .  red flower blooming spark & strangle in my nostril
this rule of water raining midnight midnight midnight in my heart
the whole wide open eye of swallow ocean and horizon in this sound

Yr ship went on.  its rack stern wall like mock
-ing me among the sharks.  yr face lost in the rope & call
-ing rigging sprawl on deck.  the sails full of the hope
-less fleet. ing moonlight farewell shadows of commotion

but i am free.  asua.  free & alone in these unclouded crowded
middlepassage waters far from home
un. chain(ed) from love & love’s emotion in this steep un. ground
and even as i drown . i smile i dream this poem

We cannot back down

We now confront a second Trump presidency.

There’s not a moment to lose. We must harness our fears, our grief, and yes, our anger, to resist the dangerous policies Donald Trump will unleash on our country. We rededicate ourselves to our role as journalists and writers of principle and conscience.

Today, we also steel ourselves for the fight ahead. It will demand a fearless spirit, an informed mind, wise analysis, and humane resistance. We face the enactment of Project 2025, a far-right supreme court, political authoritarianism, increasing inequality and record homelessness, a looming climate crisis, and conflicts abroad. The Nation will expose and propose, nurture investigative reporting, and stand together as a community to keep hope and possibility alive. The Nation’s work will continue—as it has in good and not-so-good times—to develop alternative ideas and visions, to deepen our mission of truth-telling and deep reporting, and to further solidarity in a nation divided.

Armed with a remarkable 160 years of bold, independent journalism, our mandate today remains the same as when abolitionists first founded The Nation—to uphold the principles of democracy and freedom, serve as a beacon through the darkest days of resistance, and to envision and struggle for a brighter future.

The day is dark, the forces arrayed are tenacious, but as the late Nation editorial board member Toni Morrison wrote “No! This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.”

I urge you to stand with The Nation and donate today.

Onwards,

Katrina vanden Heuvel
Editorial Director and Publisher, The Nation

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