Poet Kween Moore pays tribute to the journey of Harriet Tubman while embodying her eternal spirit in this powerful soliloquy.
LIBERATION: Poetry Films Inspired by Harriet Tubman is a powerful series of short films inspired by the legacy of Harriet Tubman, in celebration of the new Harriet Tubman Monument in Newark.
Poem Written & Performed by Kween Moore
Directed by Yuri Alves
Produced: Igor Alves
Director of Photography: Gabriel Kurzlop
Sound Recording: Victor Buitrago, Andre Marques
Edited by: Yuri Alves, Victor Buitrago
Colorist: Gabriel Kurzlop
Assistant Editor: Andre Marques
Sound Design: Alexandre Ajuda
Post-Production Assistant: Gissel Romero
Production Company: DreamPlay Media
LIBERATION: Poetry Films Inspired by Harriet Tubman
Special Thanks: The City of Newark – Division of Arts and Cultural Affairs, Express Newark – Community Media Center, Shine Portrait Studio, Rutgers University-Newark, The Newark Museum of Art, Newark Public Library, Newark Arts and the Greater Newark Conventions and Visitors Bureau.
Made Possible By: The Harriet Tubman Monument Project, funded by The City of Newark, New Jersey, Audible, Mellon Foundation, and supported by local residents in partnership with Newark Arts, The Newark City Parks Foundation, The Newark Museum of Art, Newark Public Library and DreamPlay Media.
For more: visitharriettubmansquare.com
#LIBERATIONFILMS #HARRIETTUBMANMONUMENT
About Kween Moore
Curator, Interdisciplinary Artist, Poet and Arts Educator, Kween Moore, leads a life dedicated to the arts and its communal impact. Through workshops and creative sessions, Moore produces content that challenges events and topics considered to be controversial or too difficult to discuss using the creative process.
Follow Kween Moore at instagram.com/urbankweenbrand
TRANSCRIPT
Ordinary people
Like sisters
Mothers
Grown of farmers
ministers
people
My people
A kind of folk being kept
and unkept at the same time
set them free
they are not yours
get your fingertips off of them
a minty substance on the tips
of all of the tongues
They wondering who and how tall
Never bravely held but held captive
can’t no grounds
can’t no grounds
can’t no grounds
hold me captured
couldn’t no grounds call me captive
Deny me leaving ?
a mundane belief
The fields bear my whole name
My calling
These cornrows and Sunrays
Specifically on Sundays
When the moon is out telling our business
These dark nights don’t smell right
And for certain
don’t smell of god
I Ain’t got a good feeling
Where’s the recovery
In having your body and soul
mishandled and handed over
Deteriorating
To the unknown
Being sold to tend to your needs
And to the mouths
of your children
Is that why I am here?
Where’s the recovery in that
When life lived like this
Is a tragedy when witnessed
With the stories passed down
To our kin
they were listening
And they be watching
From their graves
Tragedy it may be
Though I am not!
Quiet was our greatest secret
We’ve been screaming out loud
looking for remnants of our people
Can’t keep up
The fabric is in the trees
Where we swung high in the noon
Give me a reason to stay
Where my life ain’t in question
Free me and get me out of here
Let me walk my own road
Gravel and stone beneath me
Not grounded bone and blood
That watered and fertilized your fruit
We’ve stood and laid in our own blood
Too long
Beating the truth and
our smiles out of us
No words of wisdom to share
Just pain and hurt
We tired of that
They got my kin and i mean all of em
Separated by tribe
Handed off into tribulation
And we been Avoiding the moon
as she points us out
There’s a way to not die in vain
A rustling of fate, feathers and leaves
Barefoot as you have to run
Splicing your toes feet first
in a rushing river
Some will truly fall behind
Not mine not on Minty’s time
This is what I tell ‘em…
Your eyes still spy a bit of auburn
Up close even as they are searching for you
Their dogs hounding you’re flesh
Tearing at you
How you gon get by on fear
Fires will be lit as bright
as the eyes of our babies
What we gonna tell them
When they’re wailing notes of the afraid
We rock ‘em close, back to sleep
And if their eyes happen to open
Why freedom is calling
And demanding its respective time
They’ll have to see an unfortunate truth
A tougher skin wrapped around
the ageless trees
That swallowed our blood up its it’s roots
It’s time for us to leave here
To set our spirit a loose wildly
To follow the sky
And all it’s stars
Washing the doubt from our mouth
To fight, forever
Till our hands go numb
From holding the butt of my gun
and my folks
Folded neatly under my bosom
All I got left is my people
Begging for a stitch of freedom
They are Who I’ll die for
Them and their children
And their folks
Call me a minty substance
on the tips of their tongues
Dressed in mud, feverishly bound
Ready to return
But I promise
I will return
DREAMPLAY FILMS
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