AUTHOR ROSALIENE BACCHUS


Reaching minds and hearts through storytelling



POEM "WAITING FOR RAIN (AGAIN)" BY JAMAICAN POET TANYA SHIRLEY



TANYA SHIRLEY is a poet and educator. She was born in the Caribbean Island nation of Jamaica in 1976 where she lives today. She earned a BA (Honors) in Literature from the University of West Indies, Mona Campus, Jamaica. In 2000, she gained an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Maryland, USA.


For over fifteen years (2002-2018), she was an adjunct lecturer in English Literature at the University of the West Indies (Mona). She has also been the writer-in-residence twice at Sierra Nevada College, Lake Tahoe in the USA. She is a proud Cave Canem Fellow, a non-profit organization that nurtures the growth of Black poets across the Diaspora.


Tanya Shirley has published two poetry collections:

  • She Who Sleeps With Bones (Peepal Tree Press, 2009), named a 2009 Jamaican bestseller by the Jamaica Gleaner newspaper.
  • The Merchant of Feathers (Peepal Tree Press, 2014), shortlisted for the Guyana Prize for Literature and longlisted for the OCM Bocas Prize for Caribbean Literature.


Her work has appeared in Small Axe, The Caribbean Writer, Anthology of New Caribbean Poetry, and other anthologies.


In 2017, she was awarded a Silver Musgrave Medal from the Council of the Institute of Jamaica for her outstanding contribution in the field of Literature.


You can find her on Instagram and Facebook.

Photo Credit: Mel Cooke for Jamaica Gleaner.




WAITING FOR RAIN (AGAIN) BY TANYA SHIRLEY



I am thinking of the drought, the parched earth

outside my door, the plant the gardener killed

with water from the pool, in desperate times,

we try everything. I have mastered the art of bathing

from a bucket. I know a lady with seven water tanks

in her forever-green backyard, she says they're not enough.

There are poor people in this country

who've never had running water, who carry pails

full from the river on their heads.

Sandwiched in pews, their only prayer is for rain

to start their produce growing again, perhaps

before the next set of school fees are due.

Poor people in thick circles dancing for rain.

Obeah men getting extra business for rain.

Still, it has not rained.

And who knew an empty tap could have me in tears.

Perhaps, I am grieving for all the dying things,

people in this desert looking out, looking in.

Perhaps, I am giving up myself as a tank, as a city river,

an oasis for all this thirst.

Let them come and drink of me, my brokenness

spilling in shards of tears.


SOURCE: Poetry Collection The Merchant of Feathers by Tanya Shirley, Peepal Tree Press, Leeds, UK, 2014, p. 24.