The Day Joan Of Arc Met Satchmo Poem by beresford mitchell

You know me as joan
but, among my own people i was called jehanette,
since my coming into france, i am called jehanne.


once a year i confessed my sins.
not far from the domremy, there is a tree called the Ladies tree, and near it there is a fountain.
i have heard those who are sick drink the water from it to be made well.
i have heard it said that the fairies meet there.
i have seen girls hang wreathes on the branches.
and the ill, when they could get up, they would walk under the tree.
i do not know whether, after i reached years of discretion, i ever danced at the foot of that tree, but i sang there more than i danced.

ah, but i do come here, to louisiana, from the party of many centuries ago.

i do not fear their soldiers
if there are soldiers on the road, i have my lord with me

“who go there?
that man
with the large smile.
and that brass musical instrument
who be he? ”
i reached no hindrance on my journey of the king. bu this man he frightens me.
he has power.
a power i have not seen.
he seems blessed”

“i have brought my sword with me.
i have the sword which i brought from vaucoulers.
i loved that sword.
but i loved my banner forty times better.”

“but, i see the people love that man more than i love thee.
and they are not soldiers.”
“it is he who is attended by duly angels.”
“if it is gods will to deliver them, then there is no need for soldiers.”

“ i have spent nights in the abbey. i have passed through Auxerre and heard mass in the church.
my voices were with me often”

“but i have never heard them speak to me so loudly, as they do now.”

“and here in this church, with a stage as an alter, where these people holler and shout, amen!
surely, i must be drunk from the voices.”
“here the voices are loud, and the feeling is joyous and it spreads unto the streets,
the streets without banners with no soldiers in sight, the people scream hallelujah in certain celebration.
there is a power that fixates.
people sitting stand, people standing gyrate and dance.
he plays they shout.
he shouts, they shout back.
it is a call and response.
they raise their cups.
it seems he heals.
and it all comes from this man called Louis.”

it lasts long after he has finished.
the feeling remains
the people they go to places and
buy his round black discs that make the same sounds
then they take it to their homes
and they 'play it'
those who sit stand and those who stand dance and
those who can't sing, snap their fingers
and those who don't have the little black disc, turn on a little brown box
and the same sound,
it is him, this man they call Louis
and he is heard
all over this kingdom
that remains divided
against the work of god
divided between blacks and whites
unless this man is in the room
this man who has been imbued
this man who unites
the one known as Louis Armstrong.