Raven McCarter - Lucille Clifton

Excuse me while I choose to wax poetic this week. I present a poem, 'What the Mirror Said' by Lucille Clifton-a talented American poet and writer of whose topics frequently revolved around African-American heritage, women's experiences and the female body.

I'm posting this because with all the films, and photos that we take in, that we forget how powerful the written word can be and with all the readings that we do in class I'm even more reminded of that fact.

This poem is the ever playing ode of a mother to her daughter. After reading the poem I had an intense sense of who I was and for that short moment I didn't have a doubt in the world that this is who I was meant to be; I was my own definition of perfection. The first line of the poem grabs the reader, forcing one to look up and 'listen', as if Lucille Clifton sensed that somewhere out there (everywhere out there) a young girl needed to be told that she's more then what people try to make her out to be. The poem is extremely powerful in the sense that women are not simply defined as lovely, delicate flowers but cities, busy and wild and powerful cities. We are passed the time when women look through rose colored glasses, for women have minds as intricate as maps because 'somebody need a map to understand you'.  One thing I noticed about the poem is how it doesn't refer to the reader as a girl but as a woman, as if the world welds armor to one's chest and forces them to be strong against anything the world would dare throw at them. The poem is not intended for a whimsical, little child who needs constant encouragement but for a strong woman who had a moment of self-doubt and need to be told what a complex and almost godly creature they are. I imagined that this poem was written on the back of a fast-food napkin and nonchalantly placed onto the table of a young woman crying over the breakup with a boy friend, or even slipped into the back pocket of a woman who haphazardly throws herself over men for attention and a 'well deserved confidence boost'. This poem sends a woman on her way knowing that her stretch marks are battle scares, her baby fat the spoils of war and every wrinkle a dedication to every war fought and battle won.  The poem is a battle cry.