May 1, 2020
We are so grateful to our dear friend, Michèle Voltaire Marcelin, for sharing a few of her works with us. Please read, listen, and share widely.
Writer, poet, actor and visual artist Michèle Voltaire Marcelin authored a novel “La Désenchantée” translated to Spanish as “La Desencantada”, and 2 other books of poetry and prose: “Lost and Found”, and “Amours et Bagatelles”, translated to Spanish as “Amores y cosas sin importancia”.
Michèle has been featured as one of the poets of the NewsHour on PBS, and interviewed by Maya Angelou and on CNN Español. She has performed her poetry onstage solo and with jazz musicians in New York, Paris, Montréal, Costa Rica, Cuba, Miami, Los Angeles.
Grief works from home at all hours (listen to audio recorded by Riva Nyri Precil here)
Sleepwalkers confined in a dream Six feet apart like barbed wire The days pass by without measure Calendars have been quarantined
State your name and take a number Stand in line for time regained Only the mirror knows your face The mask you wear beneath your mask
Don’t inhale the poisoned air Pass each other in silence The ground itself is a peril Keep your shadow at a distance
Your chest filled with glass splinters Beware, Beware the crown of thorns It lights a fire between your eyes Delirium in Technicolor
Don’t break silence with trifling words Thousands die behind closed doors Disposed of in mobile morgues In standard issue body bags
They dig mass graves on Hart Island In parks where children ran and played Pine trees on which we carved our hearts Are now boxes that hold our dead
Sorrow is never on holiday Misery is not on leave of absence We’ve exhausted all appeals Grief works from home at all hours
Michèle Voltaire Marcelin – Brooklyn, April 2020
Nous n’irons plus à l’abattoir
Ils nous ont bâillonés pour nous empêcher de protester Ils nous ont enfermés, affamés, epuisés Ils nous ont écorchés jusqu’au sang Ils pensaient que nous allions rester tranquilles Ils voulaient nous faire perdre l’espoir Mais nous n’irons plus à l’abattoir
L’inquiétude est quotidienne L’épouvante est notre voisine La misère qui nous confine est une rigoise Un martinet Dans la pénombre Nous vivons à dix dans une chambre Quand aux repas, n’en parlons pas Nos enfants ne vont pas à l’école Nous nous habillons de pèpè Et nous allons par-çi, par-là Chercher la vie dans tous les coins
Et parce qu’ils sont sans besoins Ils nous appellent irresponsables Les fonds de l’État sont leurs biens Ils passent dans leurs voitures blindées Cachés derrière leurs vitres teintées Leurs chiens n’ont pas de muselières Tous leurs murs ont des barbelés
Ils nous ont bâillonés pour nous empêcher de protester Ils nous ont humiliés, exténués, opprimés Ils nous ont achetés à bon marché, vendus cher Ils pensaient que nous allions nous taire Ils voulaient nous faire oublier notre histoire Mais nous n’irons plus à l’abattoir
Ils nous ont bâillonés pour nous empêcher de protester Mais nous gardons les yeux ouverts Mon frère
Un jour nous briserons ces murs qui nous séparent Un jour, par la force militante des mots Nous saurons transformer le monde Afin que nous puissions vivre ensemble Car nous n’irons plus à l’abattoir.
Michèle Voltaire Marcelin – Avril 2020
When this is over
When this is over The world will be wide open
I’ll claim your body You’ll make mine a garden
You’ll plant wild flowers in my hair I’ll build a beehive on your chest Honey will run between my breasts Rose apricots will blush in bloom
Pomegranates will burst open I’ll suck on your sugarcane juice You’ll peel sweet lychees from my eyes I’ll eat sea grapes from your bushes
When this is over Our room will be wide open And as the breeze rustles the sheets We’ll love each other wide open Each keeping the other’s smell
I’ll build a dam for your eyes You’ll never shed a tear again Even of joy Even to quench my garden’s thirst
When this is over I’ll sing to the star that bears your name You’ll tell the moon that you are mine Our love will recreate the Spring
Michèle Voltaire Marcelin – Brooklyn, April 2020
Dreamscape What magic names of places Shall I whisper in the dark While you hold me So we travel at least through the night What sweet syllables of cities Ancient or new What bird-laden trees In what gardens Shall I offer you So that at last I see the world with you Walk with me Through streets I’ve loved In Buenos Aires, Aix, Lisbon, Jacmel Keep your steps aligned with mine Walk with me In Venice There is an alleyway called Paradiso I want you to kiss me there In Istanbul A church of Holy Wisdom Where we will light candles on the altar There is somewhere in Port-au-Prince A crumbling wall fired with hibiscus Where blossoms wait to be chosen by you To flower my hair Or shall we go off on a barge Floating on the Seine When the city darkens and the bridges spread Across the silent river Will we be drunk with each other Or will it be the boat dancing on the water There is a stretch of sand I remember In Valparaiso Crusted with salt from the waves We will leave our footprints there Drink pisco in a secluded bar in Santiago Sit in Pelhourino Square in Salvador Later I will giggle as you carry me Down the stairs to the Capri Grotto Somewhere there is a bed unmade In a New York hotel Where we’ll return at dawn to make love As sleepwalkers do After seeing the ghosts of jazz musicians At the Blue Note Somewhere someday we’ll go away But tonight let’s recite as we would poems Names of places That await our pleasure Hold my hands my beloved Look in my eyes Tonight let’s travel in our dreams While we remain immobile in the dark
Michèle Voltaire Marcelin – (Lost and Found 2009)
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