The Bitten Tongue

The Bitten Tongue: The Censoring of a Poem
‘Isaiah’ by Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze

It’s not such a curious thing that a poem can reach a wider audience for having been censored. It’s the same with novels or songs or films we could list, I suppose - and for good reason.

A few weeks ago the poet Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze was invited to contribute to a special programme – ‘Cries from the Heart – a celebration of voices for justice’ – a fund-raising event organized by Human Rights Watch for the night of the 13th of June 2005 at the Globe Theatre, London. It was a great line-up for a great cause – with George Alagiah, Sinead Cusack, Judi Dench, David Hare, Linton Kwesi Johnson, Fergal Keane, Andrew Motion, Sophie Okonedo, Mark Rylance, Lemn Sissay and The Poetry Slambassadors all pledging support – along with others, including Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze.

Strangely, not long after, came a call from the HRW office asking that texts or scripts of what people intended to perform were submitted in advance. Looking after Jean and Lemn’s involvement in this event the request landed on my desk. I was dying to ask why freedom of speech had been so unceremoniously disestablished as a human right, but not wanting to sound churlish or uppity or ungrateful I bit my tongue - and the request was relayed to each artist. I’ve since learnt that not all contributors were asked.

Anyway, given the discipline of time that such large events require – Jean chose two poems for her slot. One, as I advised the organizers, was published in one of Jean’s books, the other - a poem entitled ‘Isaiah’ being as yet unavailable as a published text. After some importuning Jean photocopied the poem, posted it to me and I faxed it to the HRW office, fully expecting that they would be satisfied. A couple of days later Jean took a call from HRW saying that they had faxed the poem over to their office in New York and that the poem was deemed unsuitable or inappropriate by their Middle East department – and so they invited Jean to re-consider and choose differently. In all humility – Jean declined, and so was dropped from the programme.

Below – we publish the full text for people to read for themselves. It is indeed a powerful poem – a poem that assumes a public platform, in both style and substance, dealing as it does with a political issue concerning us all – the relationship of Israel and Palestine.

Interestingly - the poem came into being through a commission by BBC Radio at the turn of the Millennium – with Jean being given a choice of topics or themes – one of which was the Old Testament, for which Jean was happy to opt – not least for having been raised within the broad-church of her community. The BBC were happy too and it was broadcast as part of a live-event entitled ‘The Poetry Proms’ from the Serpentine Gallery, Regents Park. I remember Matthew Sweeney telling me afterwards how magnificently Jean had delivered the poem and how well it had been received. The feedback over the following days was entirely positive.

The poem is cast as an account of the prophet Isaiah – only with Isaiah now re-imagined as a Rasta – descending from the mountains to address and petition Babylon – re-imagined as Israel – for peace.

It is an explicitly oracular work – with a direct form of address (reported speech) employed through-out, full with provocative questions - of appeal. Its rhetorical style is underpinned by sustained and insistent rhythm and end-rhymes – reinforcing each point. The poem wails against the abuse of power, against real as well as ritualized violence.

I could listen to an argument about whether it’s a good or a bad poem - but it is by no means anti-Semitic. If anything it is an angry love poem.

Of course, Jean and I and friends discussed this over the immediate days. Jean felt saddened – yet still solidly in support of HRW and the work it does.

On the night Linton Kwesi Johnson closed the event in his usual graceful and powerful style – yet he felt obliged to point out this terrible irony - prefacing his reading thus:

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. I am delighted to be here in this historic space of creativity in support of Human Rights Watch, an organisation with an impeccable record of defending human rights. At the same time, I’m bound to say that I find it disheartening that the organisers of this event should find it necessary to resort to censorship. Ladies and gentlemen, my sister poet, Jean Binta Breeze, sends greetings and her apologies. She very much wanted to be here tonight, but her poem of choice, Isaiah, has been censored."

I heard that you could hear a pin drop.

There has since been wide-spread enquiries about the poem – so here it is.

Paul Beasley
June 2005



ISAIAH
by Jean ‘Binta’ Breeze


ISAIAH
de rastaman
tongue full of flames
red righteous brains
descend from de mountains
trod troo de plains
bringing a warning
to a nation gawn insane

ISAIAH
de nyaman
chanting fire troo de lan
talk like thunder touch im han
breathe brimstone pon Babylon
Israel, you forget God plan
no more burning dove or ram
no more sacrifice of lamb
no more fasting, no more prayer
God is deaf to your desire

ISAIAH
de rastaman
heart beating hard
no stone, no sword, no guard
talking every word de spirit declare
Israel, yuh forget yuh God
corruption mek yuh choose de bad
wickedness defile yuh
vain power start beguile yuh
de lust for blood done spoil you
if God neva mek dat promise to yuh
you woulda sink like Sodom an Gomorrah
yuh woulda run like yuh jus laas yuh shadow
today would be the end of yuh tomorrow
an yuh children would reap pure sorrow

ISAIAH
de iyaman
bow im head as im humbly stan
an big Israel come clean
to remember what love mean
an retreat from a murderous scene
stop pushing others to where you’ve been
you of all should find genocide obscene
God just might let yah een

ISAIAH
de binghiman
come to chant dung Babylon
day by day in burning sun
bringing de word of God anger
let Israel tremble and hear
why truth can fill de hunger
Israel be humble and prepare
God’s wrath is drawing near
there’s land enough to share
let covetousness disappear
offer up a humbler prayer

ISAIAH
de rastaman
let words burn across the lan
an wait for God to play im han

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