Sienna Vernon-John
My Father’s Love Letters
On Fridays he'd open a can of Jax
After coming home from the mill,
& ask me to write a letter to my mother
Who sent postcards of desert flowers
Taller than men. He would beg,
Promising to never beat her
Again. Somehow I was happy
She had gone, & sometimes wanted
To slip in a reminder, how Mary Lou
Williams' "Polka Dots & Moonbeams"
Never made the swelling go down.
His carpenter's apron always bulged
With old nails, a claw hammer
Looped at his side & extension cords
Coiled around his feet.
Words rolled from under the pressure
Of my ballpoint: Love,
Baby, Honey, Please.
We sat in the quiet brutality
Of voltage meters & pipe threaders,
Lost between sentences . . .
The gleam of a five-pound wedge
On the concrete floor
Pulled a sunset
Through the doorway of his toolshed.
I wondered if she laughed
& held them over a gas burner.
My father could only sign
His name, but he'd look at blueprints
& say how many bricks
Formed each wall. This man,
Who stole roses & hyacinth
For his yard, would stand there
With eyes closed & fists balled,
Laboring over a simple word, almost
Redeemed by what he tried to say
–Yusef Komunyakaa
Mi father(fada)/'s luv lettas
on Fridays him open up a can a jax — Pon Fridays; him open up a can a jax
afta ‘im come home from di mill —afta ‘im come home from di mil,
an ask mi fi write a letta to mi mada — an ‘im ask mi fi write a letta to mi mada;
Who send postcards with desert flowas — who send postcards wit desert flowas
Talla dan man, ‘im wi a beg — Talla dan man. ‘Im wi a beg,
Promise fi never beat ha — ‘im fi promise fi neva beat ha
Again. Somehow mi was happy — again. Somehow, mi was happy.
Shi had gaan, an sometimes mi want —Shi had gaan. An’ sometimes, mi want
Fi slip in a reminder, how Mary lou — fi slip a reminder how Mary Lou
Williams “Polka Dots an moonbeams” — Williams “Polka Dots an Moonbeams”
Neva make di swelling go down — wi neva make di swelling go down.
‘Im carpenter's apron always a bulge out—’Im carpenter’s apron always a bulge
Wid old nails an a claw hammer —wid old nails, a claw hammer
Looped pon ‘im side an extension cords — An looped pon ‘im side, an extension cords
Coiled round ‘im foot — Dat coiled round ‘im foot.
Words roll from anda di pressure —Words roll from anda di pressure
Of my ballpoint: Love — of mi ballpoint. Luv,
Baby,Honey, Please. — Baby, Honey—Please.
Wi sit in a di quiet brutality —Wi sit in da quiet brutality
Of voltage meters an pipe threaders— of voltage meters an pipe threaders.
Lost between di sentences — Wi get lose between di sentences,
Di gleam of wedge — An di gleam of wedge
Pon di concrete floor — Pon di concrete floor,
Pull a sunset — Pull a sunset
Through di doorway of ‘im toolshed— Tru di doorway of ‘im toolshed.
Mi wonder if shi laughed — Mi wonder if shi laughed.
an whole dem ova di gas burna —Mi wonder if shi whole dem ova di gas burna.
Mi fada could only sign — Mi fada who could only sign
’Im name, but ‘im look pon di blueprints—’Im name, cud look pon di blueprints,
An say how much bricks —An ‘im a say how much bricks
Make each wall. Dis man — Make each wall. Dis man,
Who thief roses an hyacinth —Who thief roses an hyacinth
Fi ‘im yard, will stan there —Fi ‘im yard, will stan there
With ‘im eye closed and fists ball up — wid ‘im eye closed and fist ball up,
Laboring over a simple word — laboring over a simple word.
Redeemed what ‘im a try fi say —Redeemed—what ‘im a try fi say.
–Translated to Jamaican Patwa by Sienna John
Mi father(fada)/'s luv lettas (2)
on Fridays him open up a can a jax — Pon Fridays; him open up a can a jax
afta ‘im come home from di mill —afta ‘im come home from di mil,
an ask mi fi write a letta to mi mada — an ‘im ask mi fi write a letta to mi mada;
Who send postcards with desert flowas — who send postcards wit desert flowas
Talla dan man, ‘im wi a beg — Talla dan man. ‘Im wi a beg,
Promise fi never beat ha — ‘im fi promise fi neva beat ha again.
Again. Somehow mi was happy — Somehow… mi was happy
Shi had gaan, an sometimes mi want —Shi had gaan, an’ sometimes, mi want
Fi slip in a reminder, how Mary lou — fi slip a reminder how Mary Lou
Williams “Polka Dots an moonbeams” — Williams “Polka Dots an Moonbeams”
Neva make di swelling go down — wi neva make di swelling go down...
‘Im carpenter's apron always a bulge out—’Im carpenter’s apron always a bulge
Wid old nails an a claw hammer —wid old nails, a claw hammer
Looped pon ‘im side an extension cords — Looped pon ‘im side, an extension cords
Coiled round ‘im foot — Dat coiled round ‘im foot…
Words roll from anda di pressure —Words roll from anda di pressure
Of my ballpoint: Love — of mi ballpoint. Luv,
Baby,Honey, Please. — Baby, Honey—Please.
Wi sit in a di quiet brutality —Wi sit in da quiet brutality,
Of voltage meters an pipe threaders— of voltage meters an pipe threaders,
Lost between di sentences — An through dat, wi get lose between di sentences,
Di gleam of wedge — An di gleam of wedge
Pon di concrete floor — Pon di concrete floor.
Pull a sunset — Pull a sunset,
Through di doorway of ‘im toolshed— Tru di doorway of ‘im toolshed.
Mi wonder if shi laughed — Mi wonder if shi laughed.
an whole dem ova di gas burna —Mi wonder if shi whole dem ova di gas burna.
Mi fada could only sign — Mi fada who could only sign
’Im name, but ‘im look pon di blueprints—’Im name, cud look pon di blueprints,
An say how much bricks —An ‘im a say how much bricks
Make each wall. Dis man — Make each wall. Dis man,
Who thief roses an hyacinth —Who thief roses, hyacinth…
Fi ‘im yard, will stan there —Fi ‘im yard, will stan there
With ‘im eye closed and fists ball up — wid ‘im eye closed and fist ball up,
Laboring over a simple word — laboring over a simple word.
Redeemed what ‘im a try fi say —Redeemed—what ‘im a try fi say.
–Translated to Jamaican Patwa by Sienna John
You use fi understand mi
(An erasure of my interview with Venroy Vernon)
A master of nothing but English.
Patwa, passed from our ancestors.
You used to understand,
When I speak patwa
You learned English. You didn’t
Understand
Me.
Broken
English.
To you.
Our family
In Jamaica, used patwa.
Your grandma used to say to me:
“I’ll show you the direction water walks for water to get inside a pumpkins belly”
Our culture
Our tribe
Arawak,
Took the language from who colonize to make our own
Language
We communicated,
Not by written stories,
By word.
I am my ancestors.
You,
ancestor.
–Sienna John
Translator’s Statement
Yusef Komunyakaa, born in 1947 in Louisiana, is an African-American poet who still teaches the art of literature today, in New York City. Komunyakaa is a member of the Fellowship of Southern Writers, and has written both remarkable books. In the words of The Poetry Foundation, ‘Yusef Komunyakaa weaves together personal narrative, jazz rhythms, and vernacular language to create complex images of life in peace and in war.’ (Poetry Foundation) I felt that a lot of Yusef’s work aligned with literature I learned to appreciate, and associate with Black American culture. My father, who introduced me to a lot of forms of Jamaican/Jamaican American media, showed me the linearities between Black American culture and Jamaican culture.
The poem I selected via a book I had been introduced to by Eric, my humanities teacher, called In Search of Color Everywhere (E. Ethelbert Miller). This book has dozens of beautiful poems to choose from, and it is a a collection entirely written by Black American poets from the 21st century. However, one poem stood out to me— Komunyakaa’s poem, which was under the section “Family gathering.” It was then that I decided that I wanted to focus my poem either on one of two topics: the idea of family, or the idea of pride, as there was another section in the book that also intrigued me: “Music, dance and sports” I not only felt pulled toward these topics, but I struggled choosing between the two sections. I hadn’t even entirely picked my poem yet! It was so hard to choose between poems. There were already incredible poets that had their works in the collection, and even when I narrowed it down to two sections, I still had too many options.
One of my first steps in choosing a poem was looking for words that I knew were easy to translate in smaller parts, while also making it meaningful and true to what I felt connected both Jamaican Patwa/Patois and African American literature. Many words in Patwa translate to the same word in English, however, I looked specifically for words that contained words that were either slightly different in Patwa, or, an entirely different word. In the end, it’s great to have English words, but I wanted as many opportunities to use Patwa as possible. Jamaican people are quite proud of their Jamaicanness (as a Jamaican), I feel that it is important to highlight the pride behind being Black, American, and Jamaican, as a Black Jamaican American. I looked for themes that I often associate with the Jamaican people I know personally, and the language and overall energy around my country– Jamaica. In the end, I had made a list for the purpose of closely observing the poems I had to choose from, and eventually, was able to make a decision.
Translating the poem into Patwa was quite fun. I enjoyed the translation process, as it allowed me to feel more connected to both my father and my Jamaican roots. Patwa is beautiful, and translating from English was not too much of a challenge. I feel like now, I can better understand and read Patwa, since we were given resources that were very beneficial for our translation process. I used translation websites and dictionaries in order to better translate, alongside the help of my father. The goal here for translation, at least for me, was connection. I wanted to build a connection between both Patwa and my Black American heritage. I felt more connected to my heritage, my father, and Patwa as a language. I felt like I could never be specific enough with my translations. My biggest fear was making the poem entirely too boring. I knew that little changes would cause big outcomes– changing a word could change the poem– it was hard to work with finding words that were fitting, so I settled for changing other elements of the poem. The subtleties made me feel like I wasn’t really doing anything. I experimented with shifting back and forth between the past and present tense in my translations. I had different goals for both of my translations and in the end, I felt like I wasn’t successful in reaching my goals. I wanted to make my translations emotional– thought provoking. I feel that I failed at that. I would love to try this project again because I feel like as a poet, writer, and Patwa learner, I could have done better. I am used to speaking English, and I have not translated before– and especially not to Patwa. Even in Jamaica, you are expected to speak Patwa. (A Patois Revival: Jamaica Weighs Language Change as Ties to Britain Fray, The New York Times). I want to improve my understanding of translating from one language to another, because it is a complex way of expression which can lead to something beautiful. My interpretations to me did not feel beautiful, they felt dull, and boring. I felt like I could not properly translate my poem because I do not have the proper understanding of how to combine eloquence and Patwa efficiently. I am Jamaican, but I am not frequently using or speaking in Patwa. I feel that if I were to speak Patwa, or even have a better understanding of Patwa, I would be able to better communicate themes and messages, as I would more easily know how to use the proper wording, or grammar. Patois, despite being seen as a language for the lower income (A Patois Revival: Jamaica Weighs Language Change as Ties to Britain Fray, The New York Times), is a legitimate language that has very real grammar rules. I cannot just make up words and call it Patwa. Though, I did have a few moments of my translation process where I felt I did some good work. I ended up translating a few words that my translator originally wrote in English (as there are many similar words between Patwa and English), but they could have been written in Patwa. Those changes made the poem more harmonious, and just overall, sounded better
When I called my dad for an interview, it was clear he wasn’t fully expecting it, despite the email I had sent to him. I was aware that he, as a Jamaican person who spent his whole childhood in Jamaica, was someone who would be really important in my translation project today. When I called him I thought that many of his opinions were very interesting. His idea of what was in power in terms of language and what wasn’t was really interesting to me, especially on the last few questions he answered with me.I learned that, while my family lives as Jamaican people, we also have ancestors that were part of a smaller group of people. A tribe– the Arawak people of the Caribbean, are also my ancestors. I learned that not only was my family ancestry deeper than the one language, or other languages we speak, but I also learned that there are more important things about my culture that I didn't know about that related to geographics— that people down my ancestry spoke more than English, or Patwa. Initially, I figured Patwa was as deep as it got– when considering the language my ancestors spoke. Now, even though sometimes, I can barely understand Patwa, I realize there is more I could understand, like certain phrases or slang. There are not only more languages I can learn, but cultures and traditions relating to the realness of my culture– how my culture is more than just song and dance, dreadlocks and reggae. I want to know about the tribes my family belongs to, are also things I can learn on my own or with family.
Works Cited
“A Patois Revival: Jamaica Weighs Language Change as Ties to Britain Fray (Published 2023).” The New York Times, 11 Oct. 2023, www.nytimes.com/2023/10/11/world/americas/jamaica-official-language-patois.html. Accessed 11 June 2025
Miller, E. Ethelbert. In Search of Color Everywhere: A Collection of African-American Poetry. Stewart Tabori & Chang, 1996.
“Yusef Komunyakaa.” Poetry Foundation, Poetry Foundation, www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/yusef-komunyakaa. Accessed 11 June 2025.