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Gretna Wilkinson by
Daniela Gioseffi Often this guest spot has been reserved for well known poets
far advanced in their careers, but this issue brings to VIA’s pages an
up-and-coming woman of Afro-Guyanese descent who is just blossoming into a
poet of renown. Born and raised in Guyana, South America, Gretna Wilkinson
is a superb performance poet who has charmed many audiences with her wit. Her
career in poetry is burgeoning as she is fast becoming known as a lively and
entertaining reader of witty dramatic monologues. Wilkinson’s poetry speaks
to issues of human suffering, political and social justice, children’s
problems, and love, as well as various aspects of Guyanese culture. She gives
several performances each year, has published in various literary magazines,
and works as a professor in the English Department at County College of
Morris in New Jersey. As a Guyanese African American, she specializes in
African American Literature and wrote her dissertation on the works of
Gwendolyn Brooks, the first Black woman to win the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry.
Gretna Wilkinson’s book, Shhh, I’m
Thinking [Peachtree Press, Montclair: NJ], charms with its insights
derived from daily life. Her poetry is accessible and sometimes deceptively simple in
its clarity. Often, she will take on the identity of a child to make the
listener or reader see the world through the eyes of innocence. Her group of
poems known as “The Raymond Series” is beguiling in just that way. Raymond’s
sibling is a child who knows “the emperor has no clothes” and is out to make
the world aware of it — constantly pointing out the absurdities of the adult
world with a wide-eyed ingenuousness, beguiling us with insights that often
prove quite profound. Yet, Wilkinson, herself, is womanly and strong, and her
poetry is often concerned with the same family values that Italian-American
culture espouses. Wilkinson takes on many varied persona and points of view,
often with humor or wit, and sometimes with passion or the power to see the
human truth lurking behind the curtain of social demeanor. Some of her poems
are particularly inspiring to women and share understanding with a divorced,
working mother’s plight. I I am pleased to offer a small, original sampling of Gretna
Wilkinson’s work to VIA’s readers.
AFTER DIVORCING Sitting on the floor in the cold empty bedroom listening to the crackling sounds of an always-breaking heart Tired with the monotony I crawl along the bare floor on hands and knees like a helpless abandoned infant. The long crawl ends at the bedroom door. I grab the knob with one hand holding
on to my pieces with the other pulling myself up one inch at a time Sixty three inches later opening the door I stumble upon this other woman inside
of me Stunning Ten feet tall Going Somewhere I introduce myself to the rest of my life. FUNDAMENTALS OF AN ELEMENTARY EDUCATION See Dick See Jane See Dick and Jane deplete their potential See Dick deny the late heart-breaking news that he has aquired a spot which
balks at all attempts to muzzle it. See Dick’s eyes and Jane’s eyes glaze over as they play together before they approach the time
— any moment now — when Jane will encounter Dick’s genuine unprotected article See Dick’s spot spread into Jane See its truth shatter her dreams. IMMIGRANT
GRANDPARENT LEAVES FORGET-ME-NOTE
IN ABANDONED ROCKING CHAIR New Land new rules for the nuclear family But how to figure out that not every name with nuclear might destruct? How to figure that out plus high rise taxes juvenile druggies and daylight savings time? How to understand why here old greys are sent off to silently disappear with some of the children’s time forever dulling the shade of all their tomorrows? How to keep from pining
for the good days
in the old country when even unwanted greys are carried to term and respected Like high standing historic landmarks pointing the way to entire libraries and irreplaceable storehouses of counsel? Here, when an old grey leaves no warning chimes toll so the children and theirs
never get to find
out how much they are deprived Someone should warn the present that the future may clarify itself if the system sees that old greys always come with an expiration date. — from the Raymond Series: SUNDAY
SCHOOL DILEMMA Raymond don’t expect me to believe that story about how they took Jesus down from the cross and buried him and he pulled a Houdini from inside his casket and people don’t search for him anymore.
I see Jesus on the cross every Sunday morning hanging his head looking sad and lonesome high up there on the wall behind the preacher
So I keep saying jump Jesus during the sermon He’s been on that old yucky cross too long You should look up sometimes
Ray you’ll see him Ray you know what? I said that new prayer in Sunday school like you told me Holy Mary Mother of Pearl I don’t think Sister Theresa liked it she said she will tell Mom and Dad Raymond am I in trouble again? Who is Pearl? DOWN BY THE
RIVER Week after week I come to my best friendly rock at the edge of this water pound dirt out of clothes and
frustrations out of me This rock holds up under the weight of my worries without judgement or echo There’s no sound more beautiful than the river rushing by minding its own business |