Poetry for These Trying Times
Calling on All Silent Minorities by June Jordan
HEY
C’MON
COME OUT
WHEREVER YOU ARE
WE NEED TO HAVE THIS MEETING
AT THIS TREE
AIN’ EVEN BEEN
PLANTED
YET
A Litany for Survival by Audre Lorde
For those of us who live at the shorelinestanding upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children’s mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours;
For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.
And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive.
When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.”
I know crips live here by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
I know crips live here. So many couches and blanket throws.
I know crips live here. A bathroom filled with coconut oil, unscented conditioner and black soap.
I know crips live here. Your Humira and T on the bottom shelf of the fridge.
I know crips live here. Only house on the block with a homemade ramp, property standards so mad.
I know crips live here. Big exhale at the shower chair, the slip pads and the air purifier.
I know crips live here. I see all the things in reach around your mattress of glory, the vibrator, the library books, the TV, the stuffed animals.
I know crips live here. Straws and Poise pads and crosswords and weighted blankets and stim toys.
I know crips live here. You've been home for a couple days. A week. That's the imprint of your ass in the couch surrounded by empty bags of food and plates and the Advil and the heating pad.
I know crips live here. 50 pounds of epsom salts, from the farm store, your painkiller display like an altar.
I know crips live here. I see your EBT card and your fought for DSHS care attendant.
I know crips live here. How you taught yourself to be an herbalist so you could afford to manage your pain.
I know crips live here. Everybody late.
I know crips live here. Your dogs, cats and stuffed animals are part of your family.
I know crips live here. Your disabled parking placard a candle in the window.
I know crips live here.
Welcome
You are home.
Collective care means shifting our organizations to be ones where people feel fine if they get sick, cry, have needs, start late because the bus broke down, more slower, ones where there's food at meetings, people work from home - and these aren't things we apologize for.”
Such Beauty from Ashes by Carolyn Marie Rodgers
and we are singing our hearts out, and
our souls are in our eyes,
and they are beautiful souls.
they are souls of truth.
they are souls of love.
they are souls of faith.
they are souls of hope.
and we have conquered a little corner in the
world of fear.
and we have stepped up and forward,
and we have torn down walls.
we have smashed sound barriers between us.
we have dared again and again and yet again to dream,
and our dreams have finally taken material form.
we have changed our hearts.
we have altered and changed our minds,
and because of this, we now have some
valor and strength,
and we are threatening to change the world.
that it might be a better place.
For us and for all god’s children.
for all that we are.
for all that we might be
we have done it.
And we rise now as one voice, with many harmonies,
Through the mystery and beauty of harmony.
One voice
Though many, for one, for all.
For all the earth to grow and know,
From the mounds of ashes of our dead, our martyred,
Our lambs, our sacrificed, those who died and have been dead
So long, so long they are no more than, nor any less than,
Sacred memories. Mountains of ashes, of our sweet, beloved,
Beautiful dead.
Today, what beauty we now have, to gain strength from to continue on,
Beauty,
From ashes.
The thing that destroys a person is not the knowing but the knowing and not doing."
Appalachian Elegy by bell hooks
fierce grief shadows me
I hold to the memory
of ongoing loss
land stolen bodies shamed
everywhere the stench of
death and retribution
all around me
nature demands amends
spirit guides me
to take back the land
make amends
silence the cries of the lost
the lamentations
let them sleep forever sublime
knowing that we
have made a place
that can sustain us
a place of certainty
and sanctuary
Being oppressed means the absence of choices”
Being by Tanaya Winder
Wake up, greet the sun, and pray.
Burn cedar, sweet grass, sage—
sacred herbs to honor the lives we’ve been given,
for we have been gifted these ways since the beginning of time.
Remember, when you step into the arena of your life,
think about those who stand beside you, next to, and with you.
Your ancestors are always in your corner, along with your people.
When we enter this world we are born hungry,
our spirits long for us to live out our traditions
that have been passed down for generations.
Prayer, ceremony, dance, language—our ways of being.
Never forget you were put on this earth for a reason—
honor your ancestors.
Be a good relative.
Poetry has the potential to create community for people who are searching for it by providing a space to interact and share experiences on the page."
Speech to the Young by Gwendolyn Brooks
Say to them,
say to the down-keepers,
the sun-slappers,
the self-soilers,
the harmony-hushers,
"even if you are not ready for day
it cannot always be night."
You will be right.
For that is the hard home-run.
Live not for battles won.
Live not for the-end-of-the-song.
Live in the along.
Mother to Son by Langston Hughes
Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor--
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now--
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course. Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.”
why some people be mad at me sometimes by Lucille Clifton
they ask me to remember
but they want me to remember
their memories
and i keep on remembering
mine.
You might as well answer the door, my child, the truth is furiously knocking.”
Wishes for the Rich by Steven Willis
after Lucille Clifton
I wish them more mouths to feed
I wish them no hot water
I wish them a petty landlord
I wish them a pack of noodles
with the seasoning packet missing
I wish them tonight's dinner still frozen in the freezer
I wish them no McDonald's money
I wish them no income tax check
I wish them paid on the 1st
I wish them broke by the 3rd
I wish them a baby daddy
who is no help and won't answer the phone
I wish them expensive childcare
I wish them an aching body
I wish them longer hours
I wish them exhaustion
and then
I wish them an extra shift,
the graveyard.
I’m not the right’s monster, I’m not the left’s martyr."
For Nothing Is Fixed by James Baldwin
For nothing is fixed,forever, forever, forever,
it is not fixed;
the earth is always shifting,
the light is always changing,
the sea does not cease to grind down rock.
Generations do not cease to be born,
and we are responsible to them
because we are the only witnesses they have.
The sea rises, the light fails,
lovers cling to each other,
and children cling to us.
The moment we cease to hold each other,
the moment we break faith with one another,
the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.
Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
When I Die by Nikki Giovanni
when i die i hope no one who ever hurt me cries
and if they cry i hope their eyes fall out
and a million maggots that had made up their brains
crawl from the empty holes and devour the flesh
that covered the evil that passed itself off as a person
that i probably tried
to love
when i die i hope every worker in the national security
council
the interpol the fbi cia foundation for the development
of black women gets
an extra bonus and maybe takes one day off
and maybe even asks why they didn't work as hard for us
as they did
them
but it always seems to be that way
please don't let them read "nikki-roasa" maybe just let
some black woman who called herself my friend go around
and collect
each and every book and let some black man who said it was
negative of me to want him to be a man collect every picture
and poster and let them burn -throw acid on them- shit
on them as
they did me while i tried
to live
and as soon as i die i hope everyone who loved me learns
the meaning
of my death which is a simple lesson
don't do what you do very well very well and enjoy it it
scares white folk
and makes black ones truly mad
but i do hope someone tells my son
his mother liked little old ladies with
their blue dresses and hats and gloves that sittin'
by the window
to watch the dawn come up is valid that smiling at an old
man
and petting a dog don't detract from manhood
do
somebody please
tell him i knew all along that what would be
is what will be but i wanted to be a new person
and my rebirth was stifled not by the master
but the slave
and if ever i touched a life i hope that life knows
that i know that touching was and still is and will always
be the true
revolution
i hope i die warmed by the life that i tried to live”
Continue by Maya Angelou
Into a world which needed you
My wish for you
Is that you continue
Continue
To be who and how you are
To astonish a mean world
With your acts of kindness
Continue
To allow humor to lighten the burden
of your tender heart
Continue
In a society dark with cruelty
To let the people hear the grandeur
Of God in the peals of your laughter
Continue
To let your eloquence
Elevate the people to heights
They had only imagined
Continue
To remind the people that
Each is as good as the other
And that no one is beneath
Nor above you
Continue
To remember your own young years
And look with favor upon the lost
And the least and the lonely
Continue
To put the mantel of your protection
Around the bodies of
The young and defenseless
Continue
To take the hand of the despised
And diseased and walk proudly with them
In the high street
Some might see you and
Be encouraged to do likewise
Continue
To plant a public kiss of concern
On the cheek of the sick
And the aged and infirm
And count that as a
Natural action to be expected
Continue
To let gratitude be the pillow
Upon which you kneel to
Say your nightly prayer
And let faith be the bridge
You build to overcome evil
And welcome good
Continue
To ignore no vision
Which comes to enlarge your range
And increase your spirit
Continue
To dare to love deeply
And risk everything
For the good thing
Continue
To float
Happily in the sea of infinite substance
Which set aside riches for you
Before you had a name
Continue
And by doing so
You and your work
Will be able to continue
Eternally
Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better"
