This is one of a series of poems exploring Manhattan’s African Burial Ground. Learn more.
For Jupiter Hammon, the first published Negro, who lived in Queens Village, New York, during the 18th century
Another text, he wrote; tossed it
off his tongue addressing “Negroes
of the State of New York.” For his own
part, for his splayed heart (knowing
slavery to be unjust) he did not want
freedom but understood his brethren’s
discontent and yen, especially after
17’s—that adolescent century’s—76.
(A new nation plumped by old ways.)
He wished Negroes liberty. (Gradually).
Corinthians his prod: “Servants be
obedient to your masters according
to the word… in singleness of heart
as unto Christ.” Religion should
make you an eager plantation
a field to be tilled. For servants
on earth are guaranteed a seat
in heaven. If Jup himself refuted
freedom he would at least emancipate
his alphabet. He who thought it
hard for the downtrodden to earn
a living. (Yet living is the earnings
of birth.) And who would want to
obey a lopsided G-d or heed a slave
of African descent without a mote
of his own dissent? With Jesus’ motifs, Jupiter
likely had thought no to the license of his
own breath because he was inching in years
—65—and lacking the spirit and ire of that
adolescent century, that nascent, pink freedom.
Copyright © 2018 by David Mills.
