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Hi, it's me, Sister Doctor Lex,

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and welcome to week 5 [br]of Audre Lorde Resurrection Sundays.

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Can you believe we've already been doing this[br]for more than a month?

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Thanks for watching again.

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Right now, I am in Anguilla visiting my family,[br]and I am <i>so</i> happy to be here,

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and definitely feeling very close [br]to the energy of my ancestors

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and the divinity that I always feel [br]when I'm here.

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So this week's poem is called "Call",

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from Audre Lorde's 1986 collection [br]"Our Dead Behind Us".

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And she explains the name of the goddess that you will hear repeated in this poem,

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Aido Hwedo is the Rainbow Serpent,

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and also in this powm, [br]the name for all those ancient divinities

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whose names and faces have been forgotten.

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"<i>Call</i>

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<i>Holy ghost woman</i>

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<i>stolen out of your name</i>

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<i>Rainbow Serpent</i>

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<i>whose faces have been forgotten</i>

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<i>Mother, loosen my tongue or adorn me</i>

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<i>with a lighter burden</i>

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<i>Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>On worn kitchen stools and tables</i>

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<i>we are piecing our weapons together</i>

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<i>scraps of different histories</i>

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<i>do not let us shatter</i>

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<i>any altar</i>

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<i>she who scrubs the capitol toilets, listening</i>

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<i>is your sister's youngest daughter</i>

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<i>gnarled Harriet's anointed</i>

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<i>you have not been without honor</i>

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<i>even the young guerrilla has chosen</i>

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<i>yells as she fires into the thicket</i>

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<i>Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>I have written your names on my cheekbone</i>

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<i>dreamed your eyes</i>

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<i>flesh my epiphany</i>

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<i>most ancient goddesses</i>

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<i>hear me enter</i>

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<i>I have not forgotten your worship</i>

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<i>nor my sisters</i>

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<i>nor the sons of my daughters</i>

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<i>my children watch for your print[br]in their labors</i>

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<i>and they say Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>I am a Black woman turning</i>

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<i>mouthing your name as a password</i>

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<i>through seductions self-slaughter</i>

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<i>and I believe in the holy ghost mother</i>

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<i>in your flames beyond our vision</i>

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<i>blown light through the fingers of women</i>

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<i>enduring warring</i>

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sometimes outside your name

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<i>we do not choose all our rituals</i>

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<i>Thandi Modise winged girl of Soweto</i>

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<i>brought fire back home in the snout of a mortar</i>

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<i>and passes the word from her prison cell</i>

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<i>whispering Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>Rainbow Serpent who must not go unspoken</i>

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<i>I have ottered up the safety of separations</i>

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<i>sung the spirals of power</i>

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<i>and what fills the spaces</i>

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<i>before power unfolds or flounders</i>

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<i>in desirable non-essentials</i>

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<i>I am a Black woman</i>

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<i>stripped down and praying</i>

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<i>my whole life has been an altar</i>

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<i>worth its ending</i>

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<i>and I say Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>I may be a weed in the garden</i>

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<i>of women I have loved</i>

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<i>who are still trapped in their season</i>

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<i>but even they shriek</i>

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<i>as they rip burning gold from their skins</i>

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<i>Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>We are learning by heart</i>

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<i>what has never been taught</i>

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<i>you are my given fire-tongued</i>

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<i>Oya Seboulisa Mawu Afrekete</i>

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<i>and now we are mourning our sisters</i>

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<i>lost to the false hush of sorrow</i>

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<i>to hardness and hatchets and childbirth</i>

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<i>and we are shouting</i>

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<i>Rosa Parks and Fannie Lou Hamer</i>

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<i>Assata Shakur and Yaa Asantewa</i>

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<i>my mother and Winnie Mandela [br]are singing in my throat</i>

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<i>the holy ghosts linguist</i>

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<i>one iron silence broken</i>

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<i>Aido Hwedo is calling</i>

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<i>calling</i>

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<i>your daughters are named</i>

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<i>and conceiving</i>

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<i>Mother loosen my tongue</i>

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<i>or adorn me</i>

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<i>with a lighter burden</i>

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<i>Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>

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<i>Aido Hwedo is coming.</i>"

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So of course, I love this poem.

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I love that this poem is about collective survival,

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about the survival of that black, feminine, [br]transformative, warrior spirit,

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divinely flowing through Audre Lorde of course,

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flowing through anyone who reembodies [br]and narrates this poem,

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flowing through, as she names, the sisters,

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the daughters, the sons of the daughters,

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even the closeted women who she loves and [br]who treat her like a weed in their garden,

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still, that energy moves through.

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And I am so grateful for the way that energy [br]can be with us,

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and the way this poem makes space [br]for that energy to move through

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as faith, as wisdom, as each of us.

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And speaking of South Africa, and clearing space,

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and black feminine transformative warrior divinity,

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and calling names,

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Gloria Joseph sent out a very timely and pointed email recently,

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asking from a black feminist perspective

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why is it, that as we honour [br]and uplift Nelson Mandela,

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and his recent transition to join the ancestors,

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the name Winnie Mandela [br]has been conspicuously absent,

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and has not been lifted up [br]in the way that it might be.

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And so in the spirit of honouring that inquiry,[br]which I think we could all think about,

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and lifting up the name of Winnie Mandela [br]as Audre Lorde does in this poem,

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I want to offer the Poem For The Letter W

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that I distilled when I was reading through, [br]working with this poem, 26 times.

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So this is the Poem For The Letter W.

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Woman whose worn

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we weapons without written worship

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watch woman women warring

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we winged word whispering

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who? what woman?

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whole worth weed women

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who? we

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what? we.

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we, Winnie Mandela."

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And your assignment this week

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is to call the names of those ancestrally present,

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those living, those who you intend to live one day,

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who will carry this warrior, transformative energy [br]that we so need in the times that we live in.

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So call the names of your own ancestors,

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call the names of the warriors you admire,

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call your own name in the mirror,

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this week, making space for that transformative energy that you may need,

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as a warrior in your own life,

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and that we certainly, collectively, need

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as those who have the stewardship [br]for carrying this energy forward

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among our species and on our planet.

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As always, I am so grateful to Audre Lorde [br]for giving us the space, giving us this poem

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as a ritual to bring that energy through.

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And I'm so happy to be able to share it with you.

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Please do check out the School of Our Lorde website

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and hit me up if you are interested [br]in having your own custom poem,

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or in working more with the energy of the Lorde,

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and... yes! I will see you next week,[br]from Anguilla again,

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on Resurrection Sunday.