Good morning…
Yesterday I unpacked this quote in our blog post, What Is Joy? Remember, my friend sent me the photo above along with these words: “Thought you would like this. From a wonderful collection on the Black experience. She has a beautiful poem by the same title.”
So I googled the title and pulled up the poem, Joy is an act of resistance. Honestly, at first I hated it. Reading the poem, my mind turned up its nose: “I have no idea what this story about a kissing fish really means.”
Then I read it again. Then again. And again.
Overtime, empowered by the joy of our Lord, I pushed through the cracks in my own resistance. Seeking God’s love in the fresh air, open space, and nurturing light, I felt the true joy of new insight growing up from my roots.
My prayers surround you as you push through your own resistance to interact with God’s Spirit, experiencing the poem for yourself.
******
Toi Derricotte from THE TELLY CYCLE – Joy is an act of resistance
For Telly the fish
Telly’s favorite artist was Alice Neel.
When he first came to my house,
I propped up her bright yellow shade with open
window and a vase of flowers (post card size)
behind his first fish bowl. I thought
it might give him something
to look at, like the center
of a house you keep coming
back to, a hearth, a root
for your eye. It was a
wondering in me that came up with that
thought, a kind of empathy
across my air and through his
water, maybe the first
word that I propped up between us
in case he could
hear. Telly would stare at the painting
for hours, hanging there with his glassy
eyes wide
open. At night he wanted the
bottom, as if it were a warm
bed, he’d lay there
sort of dreaming, his eyes
gray and dim and
thoughtless. For months he came back
to her, the way a critic or lover
can build a whole
life on the long study of one
great work. I don’t know why
he stopped, maybe it was when
he first noticed
me, the face above my hand
feeding for, sometimes, when I’d set the food
on top, he’d still watch me, eye
to eye, as if saying, food
isn’t enough. Once, when I
bent, he jumped up out of the water and kissed
my lips. What is a fish’s kiss like?
You’d think it would be
cold, slimy, but it was
quick, nippy, hard. Maybe it was just
what I expected. For all
our fears of
touch, it takes so long
to learn how to take in.
When he stopped coming
to the top, I guess I did all the wrong
things—the fish medicine
that smelled, measured
carefully for his ounce of weight,
for his gills worked
so hard and he lay still,
tipped over slightly
like a dead boat.
How do you stop the hurt
of having to breathe?
After, I took him to the middle of the
yellow bridge right near the
Andy Warhol museum—
I had put a paper towel
in a painted egg and laid him in it—
and, at the top,
I opened the casket and emptied him out
into the water.
—from Rattle #31, Summer 2009
Tribute to African American Poets
******
God illuminates
a kind of empathy
across my air and through his
water.
One simple, stunning thing I notice now: the single break in the poem’s funky flow.
“How do you stop the hurt of having to breathe?”
_______________________________________
After, I took him to the middle (the shared space in our center)
of the yellow bridge (our colorful place of connectivity)
near the Andy Warhol museum (art adding hilarity to elements of daily life)
I put him on a paper towel (one common element)
in a painted egg (a handmade expression of the Easter message)
and laid him in it (we lay down our life)
and, at the top (death to the old brings us to a new peak)
I opened the casket (our resistance is gradually opened)
and emptied him out (we empty ourselves out into the care of the Eternal)
into the water (we fall into the endless sea of God’s overflowing love).
We have become his poetry, a re-created people that will fulfill the destiny he has given each of us, for we are joined to Jesus, the Anointed One. Even before we were born, God planned in advance our destiny and the good works we would do to fulfill it! (Ephesians 2:10, TPT).
With new eyes I see the unifying bond of God among us, Toi and Telly, Alice and Andy, you and I. Having lived the destiny of his one short lifetime, kissing a re-created people was the joy set before Christ on the cross.
For all
our fears of
touch, it takes so long
to learn how to take in.
…Sue…
