Aching for the Amen, my book-length long poem was released on May 6, 2022 by Passengers Press! The poem grapples with the body in sickness; the ordinariness and high stakes of prayer and ritual; and tensions between disorientation and hope. It draws upon the writings of Julian of Norwich, an anchorite from the Middle Ages; my Jamaican upbringing; Alvin Ailey's Fix Me Jesus and other influences to engage God. At core, the poem laments my late-husband's 9-year battle with cancer. He passed away around the time of completion of the manuscript in 2019 at the age of 38.
I’m a mom to two beautiful girls, Eva and Amelia. It may seem strange that I began with my children instead of my writing interests or something else, but I asked myself out loud, “Who is Dannielle?” and that was my first answer. I just want them to be so proud of me that they endeavour to be like me (and better) when they grow up. They don’t quite understand what I do with my life, yet. Already, though, Eva staples scrap paper together and writes little picture stories of love and happiness. She copies the captions of her Netflix favourites as self-assigned work. And now she’s following me to ceramics classes. She’s so precious. Amelia is broader than broadway (if you will) with acerbic two-year old wit and a smile to smooth over all inevitable hard feelings. Just ask her sister and cousins. Precious, the both of them.
Background
I’ve always thought I was a good writer - just never took it seriously enough to study until I did. If I’m going to be really honest, behind that attitude are memories that were never meant to discourage. A teacher, for example, wrote on a paper in high school, “Say more…” Problem was that I was so done. I had said at length all I wanted. Instead of being heartbroken, I should have just told her it was mixed-genre, something along the lines of a narrative poem. I wasn’t as brave or brazen, then.
I share about myself in this way because in my journey as a writer, I often felt like I was the only one who struggled with insecurities, fears and hurts that cloud the mind with every attempt to write. Well, it’s normal. And if you think you’re pretty awesome, that’s also normal, especially if you struggle with the worst kinds of darknesses. So write - even if at the end it’s a swift Ctrl+A, Delete.
The act of writing is not often fun. It’s work. What's satisfying for me is when I stop caring so much about what I think. I tend to edit sentence by sentence or line by line in poems. Painful at times. Right now? Not so much and I think it’s because I decided to be present with who I am at this point in my life. I have a lot to be proud of and hopeful for even though I feel far away from my goals and vision.
My love for writing poetry began as a child to help me process sadness, loneliness and self-hatred. I would sit in dark corners and write in a journal. My entires were more like prayers or cries to be free from the desire to be swallowed up by the floor. I’m not there anymore, thank the Lord. As I check in on myself right now, I know I haven’t changed too much in that my writing is still closely connected to what people generally want to escape from: dying, death, grief and arguments with God about our unfortunate mortality.
Faith is important to me. Beside me is a printed chapter of The Prophets by Abraham Heschel entitled, “The Theology of Pathos.” It belonged to my late husband, Duwayne, who was a pastor and attorney. He thought it would be helpful to me in my writing as I think about suffering and sorrow. He said to me once, “Don't waste my pain.” That’s a hard one. I take it in stride, though.