Holy Ground

Danielle olana Jagelski

For five voices and percussion

Commissioned by Voices of Ascension for Voices of Mannahatta
April 8, 2025 Church of the Ascension, Lenapehoking

Text adapted by the composer from poems by Charli Fool Bear-Vetter, ("I am the Gardener"), E. Pauline Johnson ("Marshlands", "Prodigal") Walt Whitman ("Mannahatta"), W. H. Auden ("Refugee Blues")

I.

II.

Could I have been born into gentler soil?
With pools low lying, dank with moss and mould, glint through their mildew like large cups of gold.
Could I have been born into gentler soil to hold roots like mine in the ground?

III.
I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city.
Whereupon, lo!
Upsprang the aboriginal name!
Now I see there is a name, a word, liquid, same, unruly, musical, self sufficient.
Immigrants arriving, fifteen twenty thousand a week.
The mechanics of our city, masters well formed.
Late cranes with heavy wing. Hushed lie the sedge, and vapours creep.
Could I have been born to a wiser gardener?

IV.

V.

VI.
They say that in this city there are ten million souls
Some live in mansions, and some live in holes.
Yet, there’s no place for us, dear.
There's no place for us.
Went to a committee; they offered me a chair
They asked me politely to return next year.
Where shall we go today, Dear? Where shall we go today?

In the village church yard there grows an old yew;
Every Spring it blossoms anew.
Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors
A thousand windows, a thousand doors.

VII.
My heart forgot it’s God for you.
And you forgot me, other loves to learn.
Now, through a wild of thorn and rue,
Back to my God, I turn to you-

VIII.
Could I have been born into gentler soil, Could I have had a wiser gardener?
But now, my hands covered in mud, and blood, and grass,
It occurs to me that I am the garden now.
I am safe in the soil I chose.
The water I drink is my own.
The water I drink is clean enough to water the ones I love.

I’m the soil, I’m the gardener
I’m the rain, I’m the sun.
I am the sun, and gentle soil.
I am the sun.

Program note:

Holy Ground is a piece written for the land on 5th avenue between 10th and 11th streets on Mannahatta in Sapokanikan; right near Kintecoying in Lenapehoking; Nimaamaaaki just like everywhere else. It is also written to be sung with that land, in the acoustic conditions of the building currently standing there- The Church of the Ascension.

This piece, written for 5 voices and percussion, is an effort to listen to this little plot of land — what she has to say to those who inhabit it, and what we have to say to her.

—

Presently, this land hosts people to pray, make music, gather, eat, get married/buried/blessed with care.
Not too long ago, this land gave tobacco, medicine, and soapstone to make pipes. Did you know that she has been giving us a place of worship and connection before we built the church?

In between these two events, there’s not worship, connection, or respect. But we seem to get more chances than we deserve.
How do you acknowledge this land we are all so lucky to be living with? (Is that presumptuous to say)

What happens if we sing with the land, rather than to her?

What will happen if we stop excavating, but instead start listening?

What will happen if, rather than extracting, we nourish?

What if while learning, we un-learn too?

What does she have to teach us?

Do you think that we are the ones who made this ground holy?