Ancient Blessings

Lorna Goodison’s poetry teaches us how to reclaim the voices of our maternal ancestors while deciding to live and write about our lives on our own terms. Since the 1980s, Goodison’s writing has been awarded internationally, including the OCM Bocas Prize for Poetry, the Windham-Campbell Literature Prize, and the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry. Her corpus of fourteen books of poetry, various collections of short stories, and a memoir weaves together multiple perspectives—those of the present, past, and future. Offering readers a deeper understanding of the resilience of Jamaican women, Goodison’s work is a bridge between generations. Notable illustrations emerge in Goodison’s second poetry collection, I Am Becoming My Mother, published in 1995, which explores womanhood and the complex yet transformative bond between mothers and daughters.¹ This essay demonstrates how I Am Becoming My Mother empowers women to embrace their agency while recognizing the influence of their mothers through spirituality, oral histories, and love.

In 2021, I had the honor to interview Goodison about her evolution as a Caribbean woman writer who centers maternal influences and spirituality in her writing. As a Liberian American graduate student in Puerto Rico, I was particularly drawn to Afro-Caribbean women’s literature. I was intrigued by sacred gifts and relationships represented in Goodison’s poetry, which led me to inquire about how writers channel unknown aspects of ancestral stories. In response, Goodison explained: 

Well, I think you have to find what your voice is. For example, that connection with you coming from Georgia, from the south to the Caribbean is a unique and interesting journey. Some enslaved people came to the Caribbean from the American South. So, in a way, you’re coming from a place of miracles. And it’s time for you to really tap into those things. It is not an accident that you are from Georgia, and it’s not an accident that you are in the Caribbean right now looking back at Liberia. Because from this perspective where you are, you will be able to write about it in ways that are amazing. You’re in a better position in some ways to look at it from where you’re standing. Because when you’re outside of it, you can see it in ways that other people can’t see. What I’m trying to say is be sensitive to who you are, where you come from, what you’ve been given, and write your truth out of that.²

In emphasizing the importance of one’s voice, Goodison acknowledges that her approach to writing ancestral stories is both historical and instinctive. She believes that listening to family members’ stories is just as valuable as researching historical records.³ Thus I contend that oral narratives provide a more personal connection to the past, allowing a deeper understanding of culture. Goodison’s answer highlights how ancestral narratives are not just inherited but also interpreted for writers in the diaspora navigating the tension between history and intuition to shape our stories. 

Afro-Caribbean spiritual traditions are also a vital source of inspiration for writers like Goodison because they transcend the legacies of colonialism and oppression that are present in her poetry. Throughout I Am Becoming My Mother, Goodison emphasizes how spiritual practices, passed down through generations of women, are essential to her power. The act of “summoning the appropriate spirits / to witness your crowning” speaks to the intimate, sacred bond between mother and child, where spiritual knowledge and practices are adopted from one generation to the next.⁴ In this way, Goodison’s poetry exhibits that the aptitude of mothering is not just in physical labor or sacrifice, but in the spiritual wisdom they pass down. This inheritance is what shapes us as women, allowing us to carry forward the energy that has sustained generations of Black women, even when the world has tried to break us. The lines “she dyes her palms / and divines on the sand” attest to the ways women tap into spiritual practices that connect them to the natural world and the ancestral past.⁵ By interpreting signs from nature like the sand, moon, and various types of waters, these women are able to navigate their lives, ensuring the survival of their loved ones. 

Rituals rooted in African ancestral traditions are not only acts of spiritual devotion but practical methods of living in a world that often marginalizes Afro-Caribbean women. Goodison’s invocation of figures like Nanny of the Maroons, Obeah practitioners, and other African diaspora women like Rosa Parks illustrates the deep spiritual resilience that allows her to engage in a conversation with her ancestors. In this sense, spirituality is not merely an abstract concept but a keen force that sustains women throughout their lives. Through her poetry, Goodison shows how, by embracing these ancestral spiritual practices, she has reconciled with her maternal experiences and, as a result, has inherited the same spiritual abilities. This reflects the broader theme in her work that daughters inevitably become like their mothers by inheriting their strength, wisdom, and sacred practices. The spirituality passed down from mother to daughter becomes a powerful, intergenerational source of life, linking the past with the present and ensuring that the gifts of these women continue to endure through generations. 

Growing up in Harvey River, Goodison was captivated by her relatives’ lives, which, while often described as simple, revealed hidden layers of richness. She likened uncovering these stories to detective work—following subtle clues to discover deeper meanings. Reflecting on her mother’s birthplace, she remembered it as once lush and almost Edenic, now changed by time and decay yet still full of history. Goodison emphasized that working with ancestral stories requires an openness to the unexpected, since one never knows what may be uncovered.⁶ Goodison’s writing was also influenced by her close relationship with Louise Bennett, a legendary Jamaican poet, folklorist, and educator. They shared the experience of growing up with mothers who were dressmakers, spending time in sewing rooms where women exchanged stories, creating a space of healing and support.⁷ Poets such as Goodison and Bennett allow readers to recognize the value of oral histories shared between maternal and ancestral figures. 

Goodison brings this theme to life in her poems by expressing how she exists because of the women who have come before her.⁸ She celebrates the inheritance of maternal and feminine secrets, rituals, and rites of passage that enrich women, which is deeply rooted in Caribbean women’s literature. Despite silences and broken promises, “planted long / in a sere dry place,” these foremothers persisted, loving and caring for others.⁹ Such resilience represents the overcoming spirit that Goodison inherited from these women, as seen in her poem “We Are the Women,” where she writes, “We’ve buried our hope / too long / . . . / we are uncovering our hope.” These women are celebrated for owning their bodies and having control over their reproductive choices. They “ban [their] bellies,” deciding to have children or not.¹⁰ Goodison highlights women’s agency within a patriarchal society that often expects a woman to put aside her own desires for the sake of her family. She knows there is power in autonomy. The women in her poems are presented not just as mothers but also as warriors for justice. 

Afro-Caribbean mothers are often depicted in their daughters’ works as resilient women who forgo their own happiness and freedom to improve their daughters’ lives. In recognizing the overlooked and underappreciated contributions of these women, Goodison’s poetry highlights how both one’s biological mother and motherland can serve as sources of inspiration, empowerment, and self-awareness. Poems such as “Garden of the Women Once Fallen,” “The Mulatta as Penelope,” and “Guinea Women” celebrate and honor the maternal figures who shaped Goodison’s voice and identity. Through these verses—“you’re my anchor awhile now” and “they . . . called her uprising rebellions”—she breaks the silences of these maternal figures to reflect their histories, environments, socioeconomic, and relationship dynamics.¹¹ In doing so, she teaches her literary daughters to take pride in their traditions by rejecting negative portrayals of maternal ancestors. Edward Baugh proclaims that Goodison’s title “I Am Becoming My Mother” could imply that the speaker is identifying or connecting more with her matrilineage and is undergoing the process of rebirth.¹² Therefore by focusing on the daughter’s role as an adult in Caribbean women’s poetry establishes a spiritual and generational bond that encourages women to embrace transformation through poetry. 

In her poem “For My Mother (May I Inherit Half Her Strength),” Goodison reflects on the complexities of love and the challenges faced by her mother as a wife.¹³ She acknowledges the dynamics of her parents’ relationship, noting that her mother had her own dreams and aspirations, such as wanting to become a teacher, while her father, who initially came seeking her mother’s older sister, was more focused on pursuing other women. As a daughter, it took Goodison thirty years to understand her mother’s love for her father, even though it brought her mother pain. Goodison recognizes the truths of her parents’ relationship as she empathizes with her mother, and she prays for her mother to heal from the trauma of poverty and spousal betrayals and from the emotional strain from multiple childbirths. Goodison does not wish to be in her mother’s position but desires her mother’s courage and resilience in wisdom, since she now faces similar challenges as a woman whose “great love . . . corroded into hatred.”¹⁴ 

Goodison respects the sacrifices her mother made as a wife by expounding her mother’s life and dreams, which corroborates the complexity of viewing our mothers not just as strong women but also as individuals who had ambitions of their own. What stands out in “For My Mother” is Goodison’s recognition of her mother as a seamstress, a woman who created with compassion, without judgment, despite the difficulties she faced. Her mother became a miracle worker, crafting garments out of love to support her family. Even after her husband’s death, Goodison’s mother remained steadfast, prioritizing her children’s well-being while still carrying a deep, unspoken love for the man who had caused her pain. The depth of her mother’s devotion is evident as Goodison writes, “she fell down to a note to the realization that she did / not have to be beave, just this once / and she cried.”¹⁵ Despite dealing with issues like infidelity and unfulfilled dreams, Afro-Caribbean women still strive to offer hope and care for others. Goodison’s wish to “inherit half her [mother’s] strength” illustrates the deep admiration she holds for her mother’s perseverance, even in the face of adversity. The poem also highlights how Goodison’s poetry critiques the mistreatment of women, particularly in relationships, yet emphasizes the power women find in loving themselves and their children. Through her reflection on her mother’s life, Goodison demonstrates how she, too, has come to embody aspects of her mother’s strength, wisdom, and love—showing that despite generational differences, the fundamental essence of womanhood and motherhood remains deeply connected. Along these lines, Goodison’s poem emphasizes how we become like our mothers, acknowledging both the differences and similarities in how we navigate life, and recognizing the gifts that unite us.

I recognize Lorna Goodison’s poetry as a tool to retell our mothers’ stories through biological, geographical, and spiritual connections. Upon reading it, however, I find evidence that daughters do not become their mothers. Goodison’s writing highlights how women develop their own identities, distinct from their mothers, especially given the different political climates or migrations they experienced growing up. It is essential to explore forms of expression influenced by mothers’ silence to grasp daughters’ perspectives and how they speak as women who can criticize mothering and motherhood concepts. Goodison’s poetry is an entry point to reading Caribbean women’s poetry and understanding mother-daughter relationships because she writes from multiple female perspectives. Her writing honors ancestral traditions and reclaims power of autonomy that gives women the confidence of being a woman and telling one’s own story. By integrating ancestral knowledge, she ensures that maternal voices remain dynamic and rooted in the lived experiences of those who have historically been silenced. To write the mother, then, is to write the self, giving voice to the mother’s silences while revealing the daughters’ perspective as poeticized in Lorna Goodison’s I Am Becoming My Mother. 

Essah Cozett Díaz is a Liberian American writer, scholar, and community organizer. She is the project manager for the Rooted and Relational Research Initiative at the Center for Puerto Rican Studies. Her published work can be found in Tout Moun, the Caribbean Writer, Diálogos, and Obsidian Literature and Arts in the African Diaspora.

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[1] Lorna Goodison, I Am Becoming My Mother (London: New Beacon Books, 1995).

[2] Lorna Goodison, interview by the author, 21 February 2021, via Zoom. Part of the interview was published in Essah Cozett Díaz, “Radical Gratitude in Poetry: An Interview with Lorna Goodison,” Wasafiri 38 (2001): 22–27.

[3] See Cozett Díaz, “Radical Gratitude in Poetry,” 26,

[4] Goodison, “Dream—August 1979,” in I am Becoming My Mother, 16.

[5] Goodison, “Caravanserai,” in I am Becoming My Mother, 22.

[6] Cozett Díaz, “Radical Gratitude in Poetry,”  26.

[7] Cozett Díaz, “Radical Gratitude in Poetry,” 23.

[8] See Goodison, “Caravanserai,” in I am Becoming My Mother, 22.

[9] Goodison, “Mine, O Thou Lord of Life, Send My Roots Rain,” in I am Becoming My Mother, 32.

[10] Lorna Goodison, “We Are the Women,” in I Am Becoming My Mother, 13, 12.

[11] Goodison, “The Mulatta as Penelope,” and “Guinea Woman,” in I Am Becoming My Mother, 25 and 39, respectively. 

[12] See Edward Baugh, “Lorna Goodison in the Context of Feminist Criticism,” Journal of West Indian Literature 4, no. 1 (1990): 1–13. See also Goodson, “I Am Becoming My Mother,” in I Am Becoming My Mother, 38. 

[13] Lorna Goodison, “For My Mother (May I Inherit Half Her Strength),” in I Am Becoming My Mother, 46–48.

[14] Goodison, “Farewell Our Trilogy,” in I Am Becoming My Mother, 26. 

[15] Goodison, “For My Mother,” 48.