The Griot Poem by Nika McGuin

That old man's storytelling must have been special indeed, otherwise you wouldn't testify that it mesmerized you. If only you could write another poem telling one of the old man's stories with his kind of narrative magic. This reminds me of Henry Miller's book THE COLOSSUS OF MAROUSSI. Henry Miller was of course a great narrator, but he admired an old man who kept people spellbound in a taberna. He was an old man without bookish knowledge, but he had read the book of the human heart.

This is just wonderful. This griot is exactly what you need: the bard who speaks for everyone, who speaks about everyone, because his subject is always the ancestors, the ones who made us who we are, and keeps us in touch with glory. It's no wonder the griot expects you to pay attention NOW: his subject is what's deep down and eternally true. OK, Griot-man, we're listening: Work your Magic!

The Griot and the other ancient Bards are wonderful figures of the wisdom of storytelling. The are the living myth-makers. In one of my poems I refer to that fine poet Quincey Troupe as a griot-man who lifts the sorrow load for the rest of us who can't carry the weight. Your fine poem shows he is a man to be respected not because of his ego but because of the role he inhabits. Every inch a hero who wields not a weapon but the saving words. He is probably cantankerous but ultimately lovable. That's the humor that is beneath all of his seriousness. He knows the stories prove the people he serves as memory and conscience will survive, and prosper, despite the abject suffering on the path. And so inside he is laughing and glorying in the triumphs the stories have always affirmed. Your poem gives us the griot-man just as he is about to begin his storytelling, just as the people are sensing his magic and power. In a moment they will be rapt.