Rastafari through the Arts 2

“Whatever they grow up to be, they are still our children, and the one most important of all the things we can give to them is unconditional love. Not a love that depends on anything at all except that they are our children.”

 Rosaleen Dickson

“Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes, they forgive them”

 Oscar Wilde

Okay, so I may be a little bit biased.  After all, the few poems I have selected, even the artwork from the previous blog of this name, are from ones and ones that I know personally.  Though from my perspective, who better to showcase.  I'm sure they are many more artists that I could sample, even amongst my same very circle and in time I will do just that.  But right now, I present just another small sampling of poems written by an acquaintance who just so happens to be Rastafari.  Notice that the topics are as diverse as the members of the Rastafari nation are varied.

This certainly does not represent the entire scope, the fullness, of Rastafari thought and consciousness.  It merely is an attempt to open up the eyes of ones reading to not so quickly pigdeon-hole Rastafari with first seeing the spirit of the Man or Woman in question.  We are just as multi-faceted, as rare and as precious, as the very diamonds and minerals that the world has long divided and plundered Africa for all these years.


I leave with one word of upright meditation to hold against your bosom on your travels, in good times and bad: LOVE.




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“I Remember This Was Posed To Be A Short Poem”

I remember to this day

the first time I felt you

kick in your mothers belly.

The first time your face

touched my hand as I was

gently massaging away any clues

of your impending arrival.

I remember the first time we

met and how you gripped my pinky

and my beard.

I remember how you smelled

the first night.

And the second.

And the third.

Sweet milk on your breath

as you lay, first snores of a long life,

cheek on my chest.

I remember the nights you would

wake and search for comfort

with a cry.  Walking forwards and backwards,

humming and singing songs

to be written in your souls archive;

melodies to help destroy future despairs.

First time I heard what I imagined

would be your voice,

I told your mother that I had just heard you speak;

strapped in a car seat on the way to grandma’s,

all of six months old.

The first time I saw you take a step,

I was humbled.

Pre-k, kindergarten, first grade too.

Each step you took, each step you take,

is not my success to take credit,

but my progress, to look ahead.

And yes, I remember all the

bad moments too.  My fault,

and yours.  And those of time.

Lessons and bruises, cuts and scrapes

that heal and strengthen flesh

and spirit, and resolve.

And yes I am remembering new moments

even now.

This one…

And this one…

And this one…

Jah C

05.09.2012

"We Were Born Angels"


On a vision quest, seems they are many these days, I saw you.
Well I saw your form, laying neatly undisturbed in the warm darkness.
Your presence calmed me as I climbed deeper up into heights
Before unseen by these eyes.  Into realms never imagined.
Do you remember?
Do you remember traveling that road?
Soaring above the thoughts and dreams of mortal men.
Whispering the name of Light as loud as thunder,
Shapeless as the ocean is wide, vexing and trembling.
I heard Mother call to me,
The name She gave me in silent prayer.
But it was Brother who stood before me, as you lay
In the warm darkness which could not hide your form,
Brother who stood before me, calling me to the place
Where Father was born.
Bellowing our name in whisper, inaudible to men.
And the reason I pen these words in the sweet darkness
That steadies your form, and mine, hid from time.
It is time Sister, time to rise and heed Mother’s prayer.
Radiate your Glory.


Jah Courtney

01.13.2012

"Beloved Rain"

For those who fuss
when its wet outside
have you ever seen
a child who cannot cry?
They are the saddest
little things.

Jah Courtney

06.18.2009

"Never Realize When It's Father's Day Cause Your Always Around"

God knows there were days growing up that I coudn't
stand the sight of your face,
the sound of your voice,
or the way you made me feel like a
little boy everytime you walked in the room.
Do you remember how many times you showed up to
My recital, or practice or game?
I swear the only thing I think I learned
growing up was how much
money really meant.


The fellas on the block were the first to hear bout my "first time".
The first time I went to jail;
the first time shit got real hard,
my "family" held me up.
Could never say to you
what a miserable little fuck I thought you were.
Funny though how time changes things.
When my little one was breeding
I realized that everything I hated
was the only way I would make it through
this next stage;
that all the years of school
never prepared me for.
Ain't that some shit?


If you don't mind I did change a couple of things though.
Whenever I feel down, I call them instead of the bank.
When things are going well, I share.
Whenevr, wherever I can
I show up,
never mind how silly ballet practice seems.
And still yet,
what do I have to complain about?
You came home every night,
even if we didn't see you.
I still own stuff you bought when
I hated you.
The Man I am today
The good Man I am today,
would never be if it wasn't for you.
The good Father I try to be...


With all the fuss this world makes
about Mother's Day,
I follow your example and stay cool as
the breeze that blows through the
beachside that raised you,
that I would never see until I was a grown Man.
I follow your example and
say "Thank You" on the phone
all the while making sure that there is
another day like this next year for "them ".


If I were a tree,
you be the root.
If I were a river you would be the first drop.
If I were a Star,
you would be the Sun.
You are my beginning,
I pray there is no end.
Thanks Dad.
For Everything.

Jah Courtney

06.09.2009


"Jamdown"


As sleep retreats and
the cloud of haze that
perfumed the heavy night
air pulls at the last traces of
consciousness,
As I step onto soil
that broke my grandfathers’ backs
and bore their seed,
Waiting for the chance to
wash my covenant
in the waters that
gave courage to their flesh
and nutriment
to their root,
As I sip on the harp sound
that gave wings to their visions
and flight to their prayers,
I kneel and
return her love.


Jah Courtney
01.12.2009