Tag Archive for 'poem'

i love the sky

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i love the sky
most of the time i do
.
when everything is too full and it seems we will not be able to do
what it is we are here to do
that victory is impossible
that cruelty and greed and dominance will slowly tear us apart with ravenous teeth and swallow us
broken and whole
when everyone and everything is more than i can handle or hold
and i need no one to need any more of me, when there’s only a sliver left
that is pulsing, and still longing
then, if i can remember
i look up
.
and this sky full of wonders and terrors
keeps humbling me
.
every heart in my lineage lived and died under this sky
it has always been impossible
but they lived the small lives that led to mine
.
and if it is impossible for me, for my people, for my species, to go on
i know this sky will watch us come apart
will watch the earth rest over us
will watch, someday,
our bones come to light, to startle some future stranger
like dinosaur bones
perhaps we will feed that future industry until the sun goes cold
and perhaps that will feel like justice
or liberation
.
or this sky will welcome us
to go beyond atmosphere and ideology
survival and constant war
and the accumulation of belongings
that never add up to enough
to take only what we can lift beyond the reach of gravity
to take only the truth
and use it to seed a new home
.
or perhaps
this sky
will watch us become small and smaller
slower, to fall into her rhythm and sustenance
to submit to this heaven,
to be satisfied with knowing so little
and feeling so much
.
these big thoughts
make me feel small enough to breathe again
to laugh and argue and plan and look forward
these big thoughts
somedays
are the only peace I know

I reject your raft

you think you are the ocean
and you offer me a raft
of blackness
or womanness
fatness
or queerness
dis-ability
or my migrant nature
or something other other other

you say my humanity can fit there
can be defined by the surface
by what is seen
you don’t even grant me the depth of icebergs
the more beneath the sea
because you believe that you
you are the water
the essence of the world

i tried to make this raft my self
to string a few together and call it vast
but even though i make it gorgeous
an intricate slip of mystery and memory
it is always dry or drowning
always too small for all of me
and everyone else you want me to share it with

we are all seabed to bay
we are all storm and calm
we are
each of us
the whole realm of the moon
we are tired of clinging to the raft
we are not born of scarcity
there is no rule in heaven or earth
that we must follow

i am as god as you are
i reject your raft
i move away from you
towards forever
in wave after wave after wave

– to the slightly racist individual who (didn’t mean to but) thought she could shrink me

in the dark i see fireflies

in the dark i see fireflies
they are like we are
sparks sometimes shining
rarely in rhythm
rarely together
but beautiful

in the dark i see longing
yawning open, wet and hungry
never full, never fulfilled
star teeth gnashing
(who can swallow scalding food)
and beyond that, a constant empty

in the dark i see memories
distorted by ego
we love being wise
we hate the learning
we love being right
but we’re usually wrong

in the dark i see dreams
and the long distance
between the constant fire
i yearn to be
and the brief flashes
i can pull off

in the dark i see the moon
saying ‘nothing is constant’
even a rock caught in light’s orbit
even these constellations are
a flash across infinity
that brightness doesn’t last

but the dark is forever

9

Because today is the ninth day of NaPoWriMo, I’d like to challenge you to write a nine-line poem.

sometimes i lose my hope
when the miracles have gone
my kind invented walls and wars
boxes cages bricks and bars
separation built of sticks
spilling blood that should not mix
signs to say who cannot come
bending fire into guns

some nights my hope is done

black joy

Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that relies on repetition. It can be repetition of a phrase, or just a word.

i opened the box to my black joy
it spilled out it covered my fingers
i wiped my tears away
i streaked my face with this smudge
this shade this shadow
this sweet dust
this star space
this shimmering surreal sidewalk
on a new york night

i had been dancing in my black joy
body rolling against strangers
who were all so shocked i was glee
ecstacy, was unbroken
was in my power
was magic
was spinning a golden thread
from my left hip
off that rooftop in brooklyn

long before i learned to cultivate black joy
i found myself feeling whole
because something showed through
the fog and the Secret
the life death life death in my heel
the held breath
the faux goddess
the running and running and running –
i showed through

i got gathered into black joy
got delivered got spent
got lifted up and plunged deep down
got left with
gifted and offered
got caught by
and filled up to overflowing with
got spilled over my own edges
with black joy

boundaries and borders

i have been thinking a lot about borders and boundaries. borders are unnatural lines imposed by humans on lands, in bodies of water that taste like tears, between each other, used to justify all manner of destruction. for borders, you will let grandmothers and babies die.

but boundaries? to survive the onslaught of horrible news i am weeping daily, i am feeling my despair and continuing to write and work and be radical and advance radical ideas with everyone i love, everyone i meet. and i know i must have boundaries around my time and attention as i learn to live in this reality and keep adapting and moving towards liberation.

how do you survive the future when it comes without air, frantic, wrong headed?

learn the difference between boundaries and borders.

like so:

boundary 1.
we need a universe between you and life

you harm us
you say our miracle
is less than yours

i know you do not believe it
you are obsessed with our magic
and you cannot contain us

border 1.
there is no separation
between in breath and out
in tide and out
sun coming up and then giving in to night

but you want to build a wall

border 2.
you exploded my life

but when i brought my babies to your door
you would not answer
because i call god by another name

this shows me
you cannot comprehend god

boundary 2.
i need to turn off the flood
but i do not know how
when i look away it doesn’t stop
when i face it
i can’t breathe for raging
i need lung flesh, a brand new liver and snake skin
i need, every day, dry land

boundary 3.
you want to take everything
and be safe
you only think of now
we cannot have you here
while we speak of tomorrow

border 3.
we think we are free
that is why we let you build walls around us

boundary 4.
we are supposed to be ready for this moment
prepared by our ancestors
but they learned to live in the living
and so will we

testing the abundant nature of love
we pull the edges of our hearts so thin
trying to cover the world
from you

border 4.
this is a lie
it isn’t in the soil
it isn’t in the river
it isn’t in our blood
this is unnatural

border 5.
i am made of words
but if paper is how you police us
i say burn it all

boundary 5.
we are made of spirit
we are made of light
when you pummel us, we heal everyone
when you tear us open,
we show everyone
the way to freedom

blue moon in sagittarius

i am not glowing for love
i am being loved, love and lover
at all times

i don’t mimic the sun
don’t fold into me anyone else’s heat
my scar tissue is my own

while you sleep i get older
hurry
i have to fill in all my bones and flesh with delight

orbit is not belonging
i feel currents move from and around me
i belong to all this motion

the in and the out breath
the wave suckling the shore
and pulling away, mouth full

behind the shadows i am calm
reflecting a wild fire,
wreaking a havoc that becomes system and salt

something is so lovely now
i have to tell you about it:
infinite me, inside me

the fecund and shimmering landscape of the magical world
ripe ripe fruit, above and below
everywhere

so i need for nothing
but aliveness – aliveness
to be a bearer of all this light

mama (contradictory thoughts on mother’s day)

i am not a mama
i was never a mama
(i was with child
i was a brief and clueless mother)
i am a potential mama
a realm of all possibilities mama
(but actually,
an impossible mama)

when i see the bright new of a child
i morph into mama
they mamas give me love
(or side eye
it depends, it’s fine
the children love me)

some babies call me mama
mommy-daddy auntie adjin
tia and other things
that affirm my mothering gifts:
stamina, sweetness, babyfat soft
and a love of play

people say i should become a mama
(they don’t know)
they don’t ask
(i don’t tell them)

i celebrate the sacred gift of motherhood

(but did you lose your mama
did you lose your child
was your mama cruel
was your child a tragedy
is mama a word of grief

i am so sorry
so sorry

and i am not your child
and i can’t be your mama
but that don’t mean you don’t need one)

i love to hold firm the feet
of humans full of miracles
at that precise moment of opening
gasp and life/death groan
the light bursting through them
when they become
mama

and i really love my mama
(she wanted me so much)
she wants me in her life every day
she gives with no conditions
so we keep getting freer together

and my sisters are the kind of mamas
(who have boundaries in their voices)
whose children seek them out
who know how (and teach me) to love

i am surrounded by mamas
i am mothering
i am a mama
(i was always a mama)

the children (solstice poem)

the children run up the stairs
and i realize how old i have become
one choice at a time
in the places i come together
and where i am forever apart

the children climb me
i offer branches and answers
to their years
i have to be so solid
so much stronger than i am

the children are full
i am humbled by the life in them
they laugh with nothing held back
they demand everything of my attention
they bring me here, now

my child face a mirror on the wall
smiles toothless, echoing us
before all the lessons
we know everything
life is learning to forget

the children resist even sleep
they know how precious
all this living is
they dream with open eyes
and surrender mid-vision

the children gift me
the miracle of letting go
the wonder of and in time
the wilderness of right now
the possibility of dawn

napowrimo poem 30: for her, in amsterdam

prompt: write a farewell poem.

for her, in amsterdam

what is more precious than these
salt stained kisses
frantic lovers’ bruises
the look in our liberated eyes
our scent, now muddled and everywhere

who else could comprehend
beloved comrade healer friend
i know the delight in you
let me touch you there
with the weight of time

is there something holier than this
presencing, this being in it
we need not interpret yesterday
we cannot structure tomorrow
and today is full of wonder

what is freer than this
mutual ritual release
to our own canals and galaxies
our stunning darknesses
to wander, yes, but with awe

what is more tender than this
to have known the sorrows of children
faced the terror of transition
and somehow tasted the ripe again
love in this way is a miracle

let all the light loose inside you
let the bell tone in your marrow
seek a quiet
that can handle your silence
feel the gods praying in your fingers’ tips

gather those brilliant fears into a small soft blackness
welcome all selfless pleasures to know your magnificent frame
construct a place for yourself which cannot be taken
sing out your multitude blessings
remember yourself

what is sweeter than this
to wish you everything good
to watch your love transform the pattern
to open every door to joy
by closing the one we cannot enter