Quakoralina, The Star Goddess is a poem written in 1917 by Victor Anderson describing a black woman goddess named Quakoralina. The poem depicts Quakoralina as a beautiful black woman waiting in the night sky surrounded by a river of mating blackbirds. Stars and blue suns crown her hair, and she is drawing spirits and birds to her with her holy name being sung. She is connected to nature, calling life into being and overseeing creation.
Quakoralina, The Star Goddess is a poem written in 1917 by Victor Anderson describing a black woman goddess named Quakoralina. The poem depicts Quakoralina as a beautiful black woman waiting in the night sky surrounded by a river of mating blackbirds. Stars and blue suns crown her hair, and she is drawing spirits and birds to her with her holy name being sung. She is connected to nature, calling life into being and overseeing creation.
Quakoralina, The Star Goddess is a poem written in 1917 by Victor Anderson describing a black woman goddess named Quakoralina. The poem depicts Quakoralina as a beautiful black woman waiting in the night sky surrounded by a river of mating blackbirds. Stars and blue suns crown her hair, and she is drawing spirits and birds to her with her holy name being sung. She is connected to nature, calling life into being and overseeing creation.
A lovely black woman is waiting, waiting, In the boundless night. A river of blackbirds are mating, mating, In the dim starlight. Drawn out of the sky they come winging, winging, Drawn to Her black flame, And the melody they are singing, singing, Is Her holy name. In the dusts of Her feet are the hosts of heaven, And Her star-sequined hair Is crowned with a coven of six and seven Blue suns burning there. She has shown me the dreadful place of hiding Where the Dove's egg lay, The wonder and joy of the first dividing Into night and day. In love beyond love She is calling, calling, Till the sea gives birth, And the life-giving rain comes falling, falling, On the fruitful earth. Where under green willows a stream is flowing There the tall dark pine At his resinous heart is growing, growing, With an urge divine. Though fettered by chains in a world of sorrow And the reek of men, Her kiss has made me remember tomorrow Where my soul has been. The night will soon come when my spirit flying To freedom and rest Shall fall like a drone bee dying, dying, Of love to Her breast.
Shakespeare and Precious Stones
Treating of the Known References of Precious Stones in Shakespeare's Works, with Comments as to the Origin of His Material, the Knowledge of the Poet Concerning Precious Stones, and References as to Where the Precious Stones of His Time Came from