Lucille Clifton's good woman

There are so many things that can be discussed and labored over in Lucille Clifton’s poetry in good women – the brevity of it, the space surrounding each small piece, the bluesy and colloquial language – but I am most interested in discussing, in this blog at least, the two voices she uses in her Kali and Mary poems.

Clifton identifies herself with Kali and creates a relationship with the goddess in which both women play a part. In “the coming of Kali,” Clifton allows the goddess full reign over her body and secrets:

running Kali off is hard.

she is persistent with her

black terrible self. she

knows places in my bones

i never sing about but

she knows i know them well.

she knows.

she knows (135).

The intimacy that Clifton feels with Kali is established quickly and matter-of-factly in this poem. It is so deeply rooted that Clifton cannot escape from it, nor does she try (although she does try to pass it on to her sister, which is mentioned in “she insists on me.”) Clifton gives herself to the fate of being connected with this goddess in both feminine and racial ways (although in Hinduism, black is symbolic of death and decay).

There is a tone that is set through Clifton, which establishes a sibling-like relationship with Kali. The bold, bossy language found in “calming Kali,” shows Clifton’s role in the relationship, which is both demanding and maternal:

be quiet awful woman,

lonely as hell,

and i will conform you

when i can

and give you my bones

and my blood to feed on.

gently gently now

awful woman,

i know i am your sister (140).

I have been trying to name this thing that Kali has over Clifton. It is respect, certainly, but it is something else too. There is a respect from intimacy, as opposed to venerability. It is interesting the way in which Kali is always capitalized, whereas other names throughout the book are not.

Clifton’s voice in her Mary poems is quite different from her voice in her Kali poems. This is where you’ll find venerability. There is no bossy tone to Clifton, no dual-role relationship, just observations and personifications that Clifton does not challenge in the same way she does Kali:

joseph, i afraid of stars,

their brilliant seeing.

so many eyes. such light.

joseph, i cannot still these limbs,

i hands keep moving toward i breasts,

so many stars. so bright.

joseph, is wind buring from east

joseph, i shine, oh joseph, oh

illuminated night (200).

In this poem, “holy night,” Clifton creates a persona in which she stands in for Mary. You’ll see that the maternal theme is here, as it is in many of the Kali poems, but the brassy tongue is gone. In its place is a vulnerability on the part of Mary, instead of Clifton herself. If I were to guess, I would say that religion is not something Clifton wanted to challenge, but rather something with which she wanted to empathize. But even in that, there is still the fact that she does not capitalize Mary’s name, like she does Kali’s.

Clifton gives Mary’s character a certain humanness that is often overlooked in religion. In “island mary,” Clifton explores the possibility of doubt in Mary:

after the all been done and i

one old creature carried on

another creature’s back, i wonder

could i have fought these thing (202)?

It is hard, for most religious persons, I would think, to consider the possibility of Mary questioning her role in Christianity. Yet Clifton does it naturally, and believably, in this poem. The vulnerability that Clifton gives Mary in several of these poems is heartbreaking and often times unbelievable. Unbelievable because religion is based on faith and the ability to believe that each role (in the Bible) was taken proudly and without doubt, even though that isn’t always the case (even Jesus had his doubts, yes?).

So where does this leave us? It leaves us with the blatant fact that Clifton can do amazing things with her voice through such short spurts. It also leaves us with the knowledge that Clifton can carry and deal respect on many levels, and has the ability to immerse herself, in very different ways, in the people she finds fit to speak about. And really, that’s all I need in any poem.