Danielle P. Williams
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Danielle P. Williams is a poet, essayist and spoken-word artist from Columbia, South Carolina. She is a third-year MFA candidate in poetry at George Mason University. She strives to give voice to unrepresented cultures, making it a point to expand on the narratives and experiences of her Black and Chamorro cultures. Her poems were selected for the 2020 Literary Award in Poetry from Ninth Letter. Her work appears in Hobart, Barren Magazine, The Pinch, JMWW, and elsewhere. For more, visit https://www.daniellepwilliams.com
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Bear in mind that death is a drum
(after Langston Hughes)
Do you feel that violent
bumping in your body?
The rhythm of your
Life bolting from itself
The syncopation of your heartbeat
Drumming up death
And how are you not
Jumping out of your bones?
Stomping for God or
Second chances
When it comes for me
I’ll be damned if i’m not dancing
They say if you dance good enough
The holy ghost can catch you
Carry you to a new home
Worth living for
Meantime we’re still here
Still dancing
Awaiting death like altar call
Listening to life like a
Signal to start the song
And when the drums roll for me
And boom-cats a groove worth dancing for
Worth dying for
We’ll be here
Waiting at Gods door
Do you feel that violent
bumping in your body?
The rhythm of your
Life bolting from itself
The syncopation of your heartbeat
Drumming up death
And how are you not
Jumping out of your bones?
Stomping for God or
Second chances
When it comes for me
I’ll be damned if i’m not dancing
They say if you dance good enough
The holy ghost can catch you
Carry you to a new home
Worth living for
Meantime we’re still here
Still dancing
Awaiting death like altar call
Listening to life like a
Signal to start the song
And when the drums roll for me
And boom-cats a groove worth dancing for
Worth dying for
We’ll be here
Waiting at Gods door
Commentary
Danielle on “Bear in mind that death is a drum”:
When I write poems, I read the lines out loud, as if performing them while simultaneously figuring out all of the different ways in which I want the lines to sing. I am very intentional when it comes to how each poem sounds. With Bear in mind that death is a drum, I am of course paying homage to the great Langston Hughes, but also trying to understand how music itself is a life, a beat, a pause, a little life wanting to be acted out by the living. As a writer and musician, I am obsessed with how song and lyric informs life’s traumas. And the longer I think about it, death is a drum; it is both loud and quiet, both hard and soft, both the beginning and the end of something. And so, this poem is evocative of the finality of a sound once it has left the hands of its musician. The air in one's lungs once it has left the body. It’s about the joy in drumming and dancing and living, despite knowing what happens when the song ends. Despite knowing that death is inevitable.
Assistant Editor Zora Satchell on “Bear in mind that death is a drum”:
When this came across my desk as I was going through the submissions, I was immediately impressed by Williams’ work. “Bear in mind that death is a drum” is after “Drum” by Langston Hughes. In the original piece, the drum music is a literal death march that is never ended. Whether we are aware of it or not, we all march forward to its beat answering its call. In Williams’ piece, the music of death takes on joy. “Listening to life like a/Signal to start the song”—You cannot help but dance, dance as hard as you can so the holy ghost may catch you and “carry you to a new home/ worth living for.”
When I write poems, I read the lines out loud, as if performing them while simultaneously figuring out all of the different ways in which I want the lines to sing. I am very intentional when it comes to how each poem sounds. With Bear in mind that death is a drum, I am of course paying homage to the great Langston Hughes, but also trying to understand how music itself is a life, a beat, a pause, a little life wanting to be acted out by the living. As a writer and musician, I am obsessed with how song and lyric informs life’s traumas. And the longer I think about it, death is a drum; it is both loud and quiet, both hard and soft, both the beginning and the end of something. And so, this poem is evocative of the finality of a sound once it has left the hands of its musician. The air in one's lungs once it has left the body. It’s about the joy in drumming and dancing and living, despite knowing what happens when the song ends. Despite knowing that death is inevitable.
Assistant Editor Zora Satchell on “Bear in mind that death is a drum”:
When this came across my desk as I was going through the submissions, I was immediately impressed by Williams’ work. “Bear in mind that death is a drum” is after “Drum” by Langston Hughes. In the original piece, the drum music is a literal death march that is never ended. Whether we are aware of it or not, we all march forward to its beat answering its call. In Williams’ piece, the music of death takes on joy. “Listening to life like a/Signal to start the song”—You cannot help but dance, dance as hard as you can so the holy ghost may catch you and “carry you to a new home/ worth living for.”
