Harriet, Her Nelson, and the North Star Kiss

Daphne Muse.

Daphne Muse, Elder-in-Residence, Black Studies Collaboratory, African American Studies, UC Berkeley.

January 27, 2026

A poem by Daphne Muse. 

"Harriet, Her Nelson, and the North Star Kiss" was inspired by my deeply held respect for Harriet Tubman and the endearing Kerry James Marshall’s Still Life with Wedding Portrait

"Harriet, Her Nelson, and the North Star Kiss"

Dedicated to all who know how to embrace, treasure, and love a fierce Black woman.

Twice “married,” fierce navigator of the night sky

Harriet a descendent, from the continent

where the N’Nonminton—  

Dahomean warrior women--

reigned,

sang songs of deliverance

coded in the marrow of her bones

while stealthily

 guiding raids

and steering bold,

broken

and fragile men whose taut flesh, plowed with fields of scars lashed by the buckra’s whips,

women (bosoms bursting with the elixir of mother’s milk)

cradling babies swaddled in burlap blankets,

navigated them upstream, across treacherous

murky rivers

           where water moccasins, haints, and slave catchers

lurked,

up into Ohio safe houses,

across into the Canadian border.

Along every treacherous trail she seeded our dreams

so, the future could harvest the fruits of freedoms.

On each return home,

He, Her Nelson, a stalwart soldier in the underground railroad,

twenty-two years younger and a refuge

against the storms of subjugation,

soared into her heart as she answered

a cosmic calling

where he planted new life

on to the galaxy of her soul,

and the morning pulse

of their shared passions.

He

whispered terms of endearment

across the scars struck on her heart,

chanting My Minty, My Minty, My Minty—his mantra

out into

the universe of their love,

caressed and kneaded a balm of peace into the palms of her weathered hands

along walks

under the same Moon used as a beacon

to guide hundreds of the enslaved to freedom,

soothed her soul when they shared

harrowing tales of the cunning ways she eluded capture at the Combahee River Raid,

serving as a spy for the Union Army

and snatching recalcitrant recruits on board the freedom train.

Her Nelson, set the table

in her boarding house

    where they met

with wild red and white bleeding hearts, purple asters,

and scarlet bergamot

while they shared

frostbitten mustard greens,

sun-blessed field corn,

and crisp golden apples

harvested from the fields

where the Seneca and Oneida

tilled their ancestral soils for centuries.  

He,

sweetened Harriet’s tongue

when it was salty,

with the reassurance of unbridled trust—

something John Tubman, a free Black man

and first “husband,” and those who kept on the shackles

of bondage,

did not.

When waves of acrimony wounded them

and the strife of struggle

and megrim of marriage unmoored the passion of their anchors of intimacy,

they shared testimonies from the chalice of their salted tears

and He, her Nelson laid

“jump back honey, jump back” kinda love on her.

And as brick by forged brick, they built a home

on acres of sacred vision and earned fortune to ensure a future

warranted a divine people whose dreams they refused to defer. 

Under their bed, Her Nelson, kept Frances Ellen Harper’s Poems on Miscellaneous Subjects from which he often read

 “That Hope Blessed”

When wandering in dens and caves,

In sheep and goat skins dress'd,

A peel'd and scatter'd people learned

To know this hope was blest.

 

There he read her awake

on the majestic mist of dew filled mornings

as they witnessed the rising of suns blazing

with promises yet to be filled.

He, Her Nelson,

found his way to the mystical places

where she received him,

so, he could listen

to the chorus of pleasure rise

in erotic arias and see the North Star

kiss the midnight of her body,

as their lips held breath and being.

He soothed the volcanic fire of her soul,

touching every cell of her raven-colored skin,

while playing in the Bakongo Rainforest of her hair,

swimming along the Atlantic shores of her boundless mind,

spinning her supple, unbroken body

up

across the night sky towards Titan and Rhea,

two Moons of Saturn,

on the kinetic energy of their covenant of

intimacies where defying $40,000.00 bounties on her head

and with the tyranny of rape rampaging

at the junction of every bend,

somehow tenderness survived.

 ©2022 Daphne Muse

Brentwood, California 94513