Let’s take our hearts for a walk in the woods and listen to the magic whispers of old trees.
-Unknown
Category: poetry
The Buddha
Half cut and hammered,
A Buddha under the falls is fallen.
The falls’ waters cleanse the bloodied stone,
Etching vermillion on the bloody floor.
Still the Buddha smiles.
There are tall trees around.
Also dark ushering clouds burgeon.
The lament of a Dravidian girl resonates,
In the breathtaking valley of blood.
Still the Buddha smiles.
The girl, her hair undone, and body too
Sits and weeps in Buddha’s eyes.
Her blood and tears coalesce, yet,
Nobody’s there to hear her requiem.
Still the Buddha smiles.
A queer quietude prevails.
Hunger and thirst too, yet water is there.
Nobody hears the cry of the bloody valley.
Life is still yet there is no stillness.
Still the Buddha smiles.
Biracial Hair
I happened upon a post by a 6th grade teacher (at least she was at the time of the 2014 post) by Jesska Daugherty. The post was about The Poet Warriors Project and how Biracial Hair by Zora Howard is one of the first poems she has her student warriors learn in order to address the subject of identity. Zora Howard is the youngest poet to win the Urban Word NYC Grand Slam finals. She was 13.
Talk about inspirational art: you know, that thing we use to speak the truth in a way that captures the attention of an audience for more than 4 seconds. Art: that thing extending beyond 140 characters or a #hashtag. ART: that thing allowing you to openly cry or laugh or stand up and shout in agreement because it touches that tender scab on your soul that keeps breaking open again and again. Please artists, on behalf of this little white woman watching an orange man trying to turn our country upside down – and not in a good way – trying to drag our culture down and backwards rather than raise us up: please don’t stop sharing your art with the world.
Check this out and be inspired by Zora’s words. I know it’s long and intense, but at least make it to, “I’m not a fucking cookie!” By then you won’t be able to stop.
Rise
In the US, I feel like 1920 was the original ‘Year of the Woman’ as we finally earned the right to vote. The Year of the Woman came up again in 1984, in 1992 and back in March of this year, Priyank Jain, a frequent speaker on the importance of girls’ and women’s empowerment globally, predicted that 2017 would be The Year of the Woman. Just three days ago, the African American Film Critics Association proclaimed 2017 The Year of the Woman. Thanks to Alyssa Milano‘s #metoo hashtag, girls and women across the globe have been inspired to rise up and speak out. #Metoo turned into #wetoo and this issue, which has been festering just under the surface for so many women for so long, is suddenly front and center. And let us not forget to thank and acknowledge and listen to Tarana Burke for lighting this fire ten years ago. If you haven’t had the chance, check out Democracy Now‘s work on this topic.
I’m borrowing the words from one of my band’s songs because I can’t seem to find a quote or poem that says what I want to say right now. Girls, boys, men and women all over the world, stay tuned for the next move and don’t let #metoo become history before we transform this fire into a new future and a stronger culture. There is an immense amount of collective energy that can taper down into an incredible metamorphosis if we continue to listen, support and act. Metamorphosis is literally the process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages. Imagine that.
Rise
An ancient sage suddenly appeared at my feet. She placed her hand upon my heart and whispered, “This is your destiny.”
A woman in black with hair as gold as the sun took my hand. She said, “Close your eyes. Open your mind. Feel the power of this land.” She said, “Daughter of my daughter’s daughter; blood of mine. We’ve been waiting for all your life. It’s finally time to rise. It’s time to fight.”
A band of ancient shamans stopped me in my tracks. They placed their magic on me and said, “You can never go back.” They said, “Sister, on her hero’s journey, take our hands. We’ve been waiting for all our lives. Here we stand to rise.”
We can’t wait any longer. We can’t hide the fire that’s been burning ever stronger. We can’t deny. It’s time to rise. It’s time to fight.
It’s time to rise. It’s time to fight.
Brave: #metoo –> #wetoo
Brave is: Anyone who acknowledges that #metoo turned to #wetoo because we have an epidemic on our hands and the time for change is now. I mean, it was really time for change a lifetime ago, but it took women a while to realize that they should unite rather than fight. Thank you to the many brave women and men of our past, our future, and most importantly, right now. Here we stand in our high heels or combat boots, in our short skirts or suits, hand in hand at last. Let us rise up together, humanity, because as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie says:
Culture does not make people. People make culture. If it is true that the full humanity of women is not our culture, then we can and must make it our culture.
There are so many great poems on bravery out there, but one of my favorites is She Is a Brave Woman by Alexandra Gold.
The Sonnet of the Bumblebee
The Sonnet of the Bumblebee
You went against their theories, you broke all their rules
By soaring above them, just out of reach.
You laughed as they stared, those arrogant fools
Eager to name your scientific breach.
If you let them catch you it might be fun
Allow one to hold you; small greedy hand.
And just when he thinks the game has been won
You move forward with your martyrs stand.
You sting the bastard who’s trying to steal
The secrets behind your majestic wing.
One venomous prick, with quick pain he’ll reel
Squealing retreat from your dignified sting.
They actually thought you’d let truth be known
Uncivilized man, your secret to own?
-Angie Kopshy
I greet you, Madam, the stars seem to say
Finally the sun disappears altogether and them the moon, shining still more brightly, proudly ascends the throne of the the sun. I greet you, Madam, the stars seem to say.
-Anaïs Nin
Recycled Affirmations 