Lorna Goodison’s "This is a Hymn"

by Mikaela Brewer ​for The 44 North

“This is a hymn” | Jamaican Journal from Collected Poems (Second Impression) of Jamaica's Poet Laureate (2017-2020). Winner of The Queen's Gold Medal for Poetry 2019. Carcanet Press Ltd. 

An older man with a fluffy beard, wearing a toque, a windbreaker, and a backpack. He is holding up a sign which reads “SEEKING HUMAN KINDNESS"

Note: This poem is not in the public domain! Please use the link above to read it or consider purchasing or borrowing Lorna Goodison’s book. 

Lorna Goodison is a Caribbean poet born in Kingston, Jamaica. She has published several award-winning books of poetry, among many other writings. A painter before becoming a poet, her poems are saturated with imagery, laughter, and commentary about social life in Jamaica. She is a thoughtful, empathetic observer of nature and people, writing about human failures, triumphs, cruelties, and kindnesses with stunning language. Read more about her life and work here! I also highly recommend her breathtaking memoir, From Harvey River, and if you’re looking for another poem, listen to this episode of Poetry Unbound, featuring Goodison’s fantastic poem, Reporting Back to Queen Isabella. 

“This is a Hymn” might be one of my favourite poems. It’s always timely, and Goodison says so much with simple syntax and diction. Let’s dive in!

The first thing we might notice is the repetition of “this is a hymn”. The phrase appears in different places within each stanza and line, and there is a clever transition from “For all who ___, this is a hymn” to “For those whose ___, this is a hymn” to “This is a hymn for _____.” We might read this as a transition from ‘this hymn applies to ___’ to ‘this hymn is specifically written for ___’. It’s a subtle, albeit beautiful way of mirroring how we develop intimacy and move from tolerance to acceptance. Further, this shift shows us a path to thinking about social change and programming beyond a one-size-fits-all approach. People (and the groups they identify with) are not monoliths, which is why the poem features such specific examples of life. There is also stunning supportive imagery, such as those “who know salt best” (the sea, blood, and tears) and “the world tribe” (folks of the global majority).  

The bridge, if you will, is “This is a hymn / for all recommending / a bootstrap as a way / to rise with effort / on your part. This is a hymn / may it renew what passes for your heart”. Goodison is emphasizing that this is a song for the ‘you’ of the poem, too. The ‘your’ is the only direct reference to a ‘you’ throughout the whole poem, though there is an implied instigator who is positioned as un-empathetic, capitalist, and colonial. The poem can be seen as an act of resistance in this way, mindful of how many hymns—devotional songs—have come to be. The ending of the poem uses ‘benediction’ and ‘hymn’ together in rhyme—a blessing and a song—demonstrating the need for both words and their meanings. Other chimes throughout the poem are used to gather our attention (room & tomb twice; prams & plans; dispossessed & homelessness; part & heart; best, blessed, and dispossessed; in, benediction, and hymn). The rhyming frequency increases as the poem progresses, which I read as hope and longing for this trend to be replicated in our connections with one another: how can we rhyme with one another?

In this vein, the poem is not just a dialogue about homelessness—it’s about broader activism and social change, also a hymn for the reader’s political anxiety. How can we, as readers, adopt This is a Hymn as a template to keep imagining, dreaming, creating, and singing toward change? How might you fill in the lines Lorna Goodison has lent us?

“For all who ___, this is a hymn.”

“For those whose ___, this is a hymn.”

“This is a hymn for ___.”