Affrilachian Sankofa

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• Affrilachian Sankofa
• Dorian Hairston (bio)

Excuse me, sir, but with all due respectmy ancestors are buried here underneaththis willow tree in the cemetery that wasdesignated Black and is still because thatis how integration always goes: Black stayin the annals of time and space and playlike we ain't dig, pick, carry, ship, steal,make none of this thing we call country.

I understand—Mr.—that you believemy mother birthing me somewhereother than the peak or even underneathsome mountaintop, that has since been removed,means that I may not claim these hills tooI may not participate, prohibited to dancein some diasporic ritual that we each makebecause it is only my Uncle who dressesin a ghillie suit and cares for the headstonesof our ancestors and when the sun goes downhe and the snake that slinks over his boots,spray-painted makeshift camouflagein the barn where some of the deerfrom last season stains the floor,set their sights down by the rustedwrought iron fence where this coyote,that is, I am sure, a reincarnateof the Hairstons that owned us,and my Uncle, this snake, and his rifledo a little good under the night's cloak. [End Page 85] I am so sorry, sir, that you—and I meanthis with none of the respect I fakedat the beginning of this poem—believethat when I carry gloves to pull backweeds on the grave of my Greatsand hold the arm of my aunt whounsteadily walks down to my lonelygrandfather who is buried a wholewhite cemetery away from mymelanated grandmother, and all the women,my aunties, they sing some gospelthat I don't believe in anymorebut still cry because up the hill is a weepingwillow, and we all listen, even the squirrels,and the wind, and the man in the red truckvisiting his ancestors, too, and when they finish,my Aunt Ivy says that's his favorite songand no one corrects her use of present tense,because he is here now and so too all themother Black Appalachians them Affrilachian Folksthat be my entire family tree and you, sir,have the audacity to say that when I returnto this place I am anything other than welcomed? [End Page 86]

Dorian Hairston

DORIAN HAIRSTON is a poet, educator, and former college athlete from Lexington, Kentucky. His first collection of poetry, Pretend the Ball is Named Jim Crow, explores the life and legacy of Josh Gibson, the greatest catcher to play the game of baseball. He is an Affrilachian Poet and his work has appeared in Anthology of Appalachian Writers and Black Bone: 25 Years of the Affrilachian Poets. While he enjoys reading and writing poetry, what he loves most is cooking for his family, playing some good music, and dancing often.

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