Our Own Potluck by Amena Brown

I’m at the (virtual) Evolving Faith conference today. Amena Brown recited this poem, “Our Own Potluck.” I love the concept of us as persons making up the “food” of a potluck. One of the other speakers, Kelley Nikondeha, said there is a classic Hebrew literary device of naming. In the stories when a person’s name is given it signifies their importance, their centrality to the story. Interesting that there’s a campaign of “Say her name” for Brionna Taylor. “We will hold their names close to our collarbones.”

Our Own Potluck

 Black women

Let’s gather our love for each other

And find a meeting place

The table

The kitchen

The porch

The worn couch in the living room

The flesh underneath our arms

The curls at the nape of our necks

Let us bring our souls and hips to our own potluck

I will bring my ability to find humor in just about anything

And you

You will bring your shyness, your softness

And you

You will bring your takes-no-bullshit attitude

And you

You will bring your singing voice that pierces through the air like the first morning light of the sun

And you

You will bring greetings and say a prayer

Of blessing

Of lament

Of love

Of grace

We will spend time saying their names

The Black women and Black trans women who were taken from us 

We will hold their names close to our collarbones

We will let their names rest in the silence of our breath

And we will fight for them

We will then speak our own names to each other

To the flowers as they remind us we still bloom

To our bellies as they remind us our bodies are worthy

We will bump hips trying to set the table

We will gather ourselves to heal

To remember

We will touch shoulders

And find ourselves in each other’s smiles

Pass me a plate

Pass the peace