July 4, 1974 by June Jordan

July 4, 1974
by: June Jordan

Washington, D.C.

At least it helps me to think about my son
a Leo/born to us
(Aries and Cancer) some
sixteen years ago
in St. John’s Hospital next to the Long Island
Railroad tracks
Atlantic Avenue/Brooklyn
New York

at dawn

which facts
do not really prepare you
(do they)

for him

angry
serious
and running through the darkness with his own

becoming light

I was born in 1974, and so having a moment in time from that year that I was born to look back at from a perspective that isn't my or my family's own is...liberating.  I see the year of my birth in a different way, and it becomes more my own because of June Jordan's words.

While I know she is speaking of her son here, I also imagine her thinking of America, too--looking at it in a more hopeful light as the Civil Rights Movement and the environmental movements began to sow real change in the country.  I love, too, how she expresses our youthful years as a darkness, as they're a time when we're still trying to make sense of ourselves and the world--wondering how we fit into it, carrying our own "becoming light."  I love that last line, too, because it speaks to the hope that we as adults see in children.  They are the hopes of our present--our dreams for the future entrusted to them, even if they choose something else entirely.

Maybe, too, this can speak of our writing and poetry--children in their own right, running off into the future as others find them later.

I love, too, the beginning lines--the exactness with which she recalls the place of her son's birth--something she writes down to give to him in future days--something tangible of his beginnings.  I love, too, the astrology signs to describe them all--a reflection of the times, but also a testament to a feeling rather than a fact--a sign rather than a date.  To me it lends that moment something eternal--a connectedness to other Leos and Aries and Cancers throughout time.  And there's that juxtaposition with the actual date of the poem, too, which I find interesting, since July 4th here in America is as much an idealized celebration of what we believe America is, can be, and was.  So, even though it's an exact date, it isn't exactly about the date, but rather what that date represents.

Concrete juxtaposed with ideal--the reality of giving birth and the ideal of a young man becoming light; the birth of a nation and its exodus from its youthful darkness to a becoming light; a night sky, a black boy, a firework exploding overhead, a child growing into adulthood....

It's a beautiful poem that is more than just a reflection on her growing son; and yet, for all that, it is also a poem about a mother considering her growing child.  And for me, who was born in 1974, it is a way to see into my own beginning by seeing what someone else was thinking about that year.  It is also oddly comforting to know that there was a mother reflecting on her son's birth and life even as my own parents and I were beginning that journey together, too.

I am grateful that June Jordan decided to share this with all of us, but I think I am also glad that her son has this moment of his mother's reflection to look back on, especially now that she is gone.