da bend: space in which unknown shifts are happening among beings during an environmental and/or cultural shift.

Within da bend, thousands of beings slip in and out of thinking consciously, or on their own at all. Much of da bend’s life force is funneled into notions of “if God will allow it, then it is so,” a retreat from active decision making and relationship strengthening as practice.

A tale from before entering da bend.

We leave the Port of Miami as a distant memory when entering Broward, us sweat back, breathing steady and low enough to spot the beasts before they leap from out the bush. We are salted in the sin of men, returning to our homes unclaimed by country. How we break as we explain those missing upon our arrival. 

It’s so easy making a dollar here, my father has plenty. In plastic bags he brings them home to my mother to safe keep. When debit cards became standard, I wondered if it was because of all those other men seen carrying plastic cash bags. An income coming in with no end in sight. For a while, mother can use her wits in budgeting and cooking up feasts for her family. The garden she tends thrives despite the space being so tight. Mango, peppers, avocado, pineapple, coconut, green beans and such grow together.

We are gathered at the one table with father and the many plates separating his food. My food touches and I shove it speedily into my mouth. Legume, sos pwa, diri djon djon kole ak pwa ve. I am overfilled with love, so I gouye, get low in my squat, dutty wine, vibe and jook, slide, walk it out, send mixed signals to God because I’m center of attention. We go over cuh dem house to see how they living, ball up paper and dodge them in the yard in laughter. I think of when mother and father tell us stories we can’t believe until we become them. I go to sleep tired and upset that we ain’t up still, throwing words around like patat cho, unaware of the days of grief to come.  

We enter da bend, together moving. Our jaws are clenched tight around tung, yet still we hear the other’s discomfort.

Can I open my soul up to you? To witness the beast in me.