The work of Hannah Arendt is situated around the abyssal aporia of beginning. By beginning, I mean the inaugural moment in which a community is established and remembered as something new. For Arendt the capacity to act and create something new is foundational to human freedom. In order to truly be a new beginning, it must be radically distinct from what came before the deed, but in order to act at all, we must somehow also be furnished with a ground on which to begin. The problem of beginning confronts the question of the "abyss of nothingness"; the paradoxical need to account for both the act of beginning that is distinct from the past, and the ground of the beginning that comes from the past and provides it with a lasting support (Arendt, 1978, p. 207). Arendt leads us to inquire into the foundation of what she calls the "world," the space of appearances grounded in common sense that ensuresnatality, the condition of possibility for beginning. While Arendt is read as perhaps the political theorist of beginnings, there are other resources that may help us think otherwise about this abyss. I turn to the Caribbean writer Édouard Glissant. To the extent that scholars engage with Glissant, it is primarily as a theorist of marronage (Roberts, 2015; Shilliam, 2011). Glissant's work is often divided into three periods: his early work, which includes Poetic Intention, his middle period, defined by his magnum opus, Caribbean Discourse, and his late period, which encompasses Poetics of Relation. For some, the political preoccupations of Glissant's early writings on self-determination give way to an apolitical poetics that prioritizes banal universality over anti-colonial difference (Hallward, 1998). I argue that this division is unsustainable and that Glissant's work is political through and through. But instead of focusing on marronage, I argue that the aporia of this article gives consistency to Glissant's thought. Glissant's spiral retelling is a working around the question of how to begin after a world is lost. In this space between past and future, Glissant confronts what John Drabinski calls the "abyssal beginning" (Drabinski, 2010, p. 301). Glissant dwells within this question, turning it over, reposing its terms, without ever resolving it. Framing Glissant's work in this way makes beginning a central concept for Glissant and places him into conversation with Arendt. 1 But despite their mutual commitments to interrogate this abyss persistently, Arendt and Glissant come to radically different conclusions. Arendt secures her world that ensures the capacity for beginning with the originary, nonviolent act of promising that is meant to keep the public life of the polis safe and sheltered from the suffering of pre-political life. Glissant, on the other hand, folds suffering into natality itself. For Glissant, to be born is to already be in relation to the original violence of the Middle Passage. I argue that these diametrically opposed confrontations with the abyss of beginning lead to two radically different politics:...