chidiebere
“When I Consider the Darkness” (video) is the latest spoken word piece by Quina Aragon. It’s about racism, persecution, and persevering hope, wrapped in a personal poem penned when she was pregnant with her first child.
I share it in hopes of fostering empathy in conversations around racial reconciliation, while offering hope to those overwhelmed by the darkness.
Lyrics
When I Consider the Darkness (written and performed by Quina Aragon)
I’m scared to raise you here where
a reed basket can’t deliver
an escape from the pain of your inheritance.
You’re your papa and me combined—
a Filipino/Puerto Rican, Jamaican, Colombian; a beautiful mix.
But what they’ll see first is your darkness,
a sight for them of a less-than them,
less than a man or a woman.
Now, in our home you’ll see this:
we bear Christ’s name above heritage,
but this means
you’ll wear not just one, but two targets
in this present darkness:
what they see immediately, then
what they see internally.
The first you can’t deny, and shouldn’t;
the second they’ll try but can’t truly deny,
but it can be compromised,
so even in darkness tonight,
my prayers plead for you
hidden in my dark belly
soon born to light
and this darkness
born dark
to little lights
born again (I pray):
dark to light
a dark child of light
hated by light children of darkness, yet
a light indestructible inside
can’t be consumed by the present darkness.
A light indestructible inside
is more precious than your hated,
wonderfully made dark skin.
A light indestructible inside, my child,
can’t be consumed by the present darkness.
There, There (written and performed by K. A. Ellis)
There, there . . .
Here’s my prayer.
This is the picture I see
Hold onto the baptism of wisdom
This is the picture I see
Hold onto the baptism of peace
This is the picture I see
We have the baptism of life
From the bud of our lives in the sweet springtime
until the days when autumn’s bronze . . . swirls the early snow around our many-miled feet
This is the picture I see.
Winter Wisdom adorns our heads
like a gele or a Sunday crown
a helmet that stills our minds
whenever the world shouts “less than”
There, there.
There is a purpose. Don’t fret.
All that was lost has already been won.
Promises made are promises held.
Who we are is who we’ve been made to be
and our lives and bodies are divine appointments.
All of us is wrapped up in all of Him
and in that place . . . we are full.
There, there.
This is the picture I see.
