Poetic plea to a troubled nation

Glenville Ashby, Guest Columnist

Book: Pearls Among Stones

Author: Christena Williams

Publisher: Brian Wrixon Books, Canada (2013)

Reviewer: Dr Glenville Ashby

Christena Williams is an unapologetic nationalist, wounded by the discord and betrayal of her people. Her angst is well placed. The violence visited upon innocence is the handiwork of man's evil. Then, too, is an economic deprivation that bears the seal of a system stacked against a segment of society. Williams' "conscious art" tackles social issues, although there is enough dabbling in psychoanalytic introspection that makes for a broadly defined offering.

There is an unmistakable confidence in her work. She utters words of unflappable warning to her detractors. But she steps back from arrogance, her humbling words in the prolegomena still resonating: "My writings were raw but they weren't polished, and just when I thought I was well, I received a few rejections."

But time has ripened her art.

Williams' prodigious display of semantic engineering and contextual reframing are never more evident than in 'I Drank Poetry'. She exhales, "Bartender, Pour me some more. Let me stumble through the back door. Let the police smell the aroma of rhythm and blues ... Charge me with intoxication, verbal sensation ... I plea guilty, poetic confinement recommended. On the walls I write art, painting out the graffiti of the prisoner's thoughts and colouring with poetic expressions ... ."

And in the mode of the pop anthem, I Will Survive, she trumpets the will to overcome a broken heart in 'Heart Surgeon'. "When I come around, your heart pounds like a stereo, but I never settle for less. You didn't know what was coming, I found someone, so I still got it, I am the heart surgeon."

In 'Rhymes Rebirth', the lyrics of spit-fire rap emerges. It is aggressive, uncompromising, unforgiving. Her identity as a cultural and artistic juggernaut, she flaunts, while penning, "In print my name is engraved, my path is paved, many are called, but only a few are chosen by God, against all the odd, connect my analogy. I am a poetical Genius."

In 'Survival', Williams soars. "I was born in a world where my colour means segregation. I was born in a land where hardships lies, where power means corruption, where killing means survival. I was born in a home where one bed means five people, where one slice of bread means five bellies ... ."

And in 'New Mornings', she meshes crisp verse and prose, with a touch of Bob Marley, for good measure. "The wind roars and the sun whispers. In my bed I lay and dream, I dream of New Mornings ... . So here are my pleas ... As I urge my fellow brothers and sisters ... country men and women of a resonate Jamaica to restore peace and love ... And restore justice that I and all may wake up to New Mornings."

But this is a rendition that is also loaded with more than hope. It is vividly biting, even tenebrous. Of our inhumanity, she wails, "I have heard the echoes and tears bellow, as the blood spills, leaving sheets and roads wet. I can hear the pounding of one's mortal organ. The heart. And sometimes Silence stands still."

And, Oh! the depravity of paedophilia is well captured in 'Speak (For a Friend)'.

And she shares lighter moments in 'Laughter'. She writes, "A belly full of laughter is like whole grains, nutritious and healthy ... give me laughter everytime ... laughter is like a marvellous smile showing off its beauty and delight."

Compelling production

Overall, this is a compelling production where the artist forges sonnets, odes, acrostics, and other classical poetic styles, preferring to lean on a proasic and narrative style, accompanied with an pulsating rhythmic brio. She uses dactylic metre with resounding impact and her line and beat are, for the most part, airtight.

Williams can be introspective, even coy in matters of the heart. But she can turn on a dime, assuming the role of a rebellious bard, taking on the society's power base. She can be brutally raw, her words gnaw; at other times, they ooze with a sentient balm. But unique, she is not. Surely, there are others of the same genre that tug at readers. But not many have produced a compilation of poetic pieces that unfold - in stages - thematically and effortlessly, while banging on the walls of the reader's conscience.

In her salvo, 'Pearls Among Stones', she conjures vestiges of the Davidic tradition. Fast-forward to 'Wake up World', and her cries stir with the longing of a Martin Luther King Jr. Alas, readers can only fathom Williams' breathtaking display before an audience. Short of such, they will find the printed word equally mesmerising.

Rating: Highly recommended

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