Friday, March 19, 2010

Umemulo

Night sounds coming and going here like breath,

while the hot dark encompasses me, strange, oblivious.

A Zulu woman’s voice sounds out across the valley,

to key-board notes that seep into consciousness, like rain.


This city’s water is in my bones.

Its earth was not my cradle,

but its sun has scorched stories

across my pale skin, burning a belonging.


Durban, you are a girl turned twenty-one, baring your breasts

for ‘umemulo,’* as others pin money to your beaded hat.

You are her later that day, sheathed in satin,

sipping birthday champagne in a marquee.


In Africa we love each other.

Our frangipani words stay the air with sweetness.

Home is where the heart reaches,

my song for you is starting, listen.


* Coming of Age ceremony (Zulu)


Thursday, March 18, 2010

Day

The day, a mango,

sheds its skin

and orange light snakes through the wild ginger leaves.


I want to take your loneliness from you

Let your body dip into mine

as if I were the sea, and you the swimmer.


See how the clouds are dancing.

Seeded with shadows,

they are ready to break open with love.


And the day sings.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

In her shoes

We traveled by taxi into a city

caught in a frayed net of light.

I a girl in grown up’s shoes,

ready to take the world, remake it.


My mother was selling me the house she built, for half-price.

Her eyes sad, she told me she was glad for me.

This gift the biggest of so many, while an ocean of morning air

washed through us, tides of years gone by, and not returning.


Time, a child, tugged at my hand,

pulling me back, as still we moved forward,

across the road to the lawyer’s, the green man flashing

and the cars that stopped to let us walk.


17.3.10

Moore Road

There are parallel worlds to this one. Driving,

I view Durban sun rising up the ridge from over the sea,

like a bright garment put on for the day,

and the air already liquid with heat.


Memory is a glittering fish

darting through the shallows.

When I was small, the world was magic, green,

impossibly full of light, longing.


The limit of adulthood lifts at times,

like scales found on the eyes of snakes,

transparent, allowing a vision

of all you thought you’d lost.


Like now, the viewed city gleaming, a rough pearl

asymmetrical, opalescent, what it is,

and not smoothed to fit a mould.

Set it on a silver ring, I’ll wear it.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Parallel

You are my terrible twin.
We were knotted together even as I slipped,
womb-blinded, from the darkness into light,
the cord severed.

We will always be as Janus was,
selves torn between the ancient face that looks forward from the doorway
and the young one that looks back, into the shadows.
different sides of the same shiftless coin.

No closeness has ever felt further.
No mirror glitters so cruelly
with false promise
as the one you hold up for me, alter ego.

It is because you left me,
that I cannot relinquish you,
must needs carry you
like a dog-eared copy of a sad book I do not want to read.

Pushed over by a careless hand,
choices tumble like dominoes, maze-makers,
staking out a future I struggle to claim.

When I was small you laid your head
upon my chest, listening to my heart
as if it were the only sound in the world.

Now, from far, I trace your faint presence
as a cardiac monitor might mimic a waning pulse,
needle ready to mark a small final
endpoint on spooling graph paper.

13.11

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Journeys

'Describing Love' and 'Winter' to appear next year April in Journeys, anthology brought out by Creative Saplings in India - forty poets from all over the world. Yay!

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Alice Walker's letter to Obama

Open Letter to Barack Obama from Alice Walker
Nov. 5, 2008Dear Brother Obama,You have no idea, really, of how profound this moment is for us. Us being the black people of the Southern United States. You think you know, because you are thoughtful, and you have studied our history. But seeing you deliver the torch so many others before you carried, year after year, decade after decade, century after century, only to be struck down before igniting the flame of justice and of law, is almost more than the heart can bear. And yet, this observation is not intended to burden you, for you are of a different time, and, indeed, because of all the relay runners before you, North America is a different place. It is really only to say: Well done. We knew, through all the generations, that you were with us, in us, the best of the spirit of Africa and of the Americas. Knowing this, that you would actually appear, someday, was part of our strength. Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on your wisdom, stamina and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope, previously only sung about.I would advise you to remember that you did not create the disaster that the world is experiencing, and you alone are not responsible for bringing the world back to balance. A primary responsibility that you do have, however, is to cultivate happiness in your own life. To make a schedule that permits sufficient time of rest and play with your gorgeous wife and lovely daughters. And so on. One gathers that your family is large. We are used to seeing men in the White House soon become juiceless and as white-haired as the building; we notice their wives and children looking strained and stressed. They soon have smiles so lacking in joy that they remind us of scissors. This is no way to lead. Nor does your family deserve this fate. One way of thinking about all this is: It is so bad now that there is no excuse not to relax. From your happy, relaxed state, you can model real success, which is all that so many people in the world really want. They may buy endless cars and houses and furs and gobble up all the attention and space they can manage, or barely manage, but this is because it is not yet clear to them that success is truly an inside job. That it is within the reach of almost everyone.I would further advise you not to take on other people's enemies. Most damage that others do to us is out of fear, humiliation and pain. Those feelings occur in all of us, not just in those of us who profess a certain religious or racial devotion. We must learn actually not to have enemies, but only confused adversaries who are ourselves in disguise. It is understood by all that you are commander in chief of the United States and are sworn to protect our beloved country; this we understand, completely. However, as my mother used to say, quoting a Bible with which I often fought, "hate the sin, but love the sinner." There must be no more crushing of whole communities, no more torture, no more dehumanizing as a means of ruling a people's spirit. This has already happened to people of color, poor people, women, children. We see where this leads, where it has led.A good model of how to "work with the enemy" internally is presented by the Dalai Lama, in his endless caretaking of his soul as he confronts the Chinese government that invaded Tibet. Because, finally, it is the soul that must be preserved, if one is to remain a credible leader. All else might be lost; but when the soul dies, the connection to earth, to peoples, to animals, to rivers, to mountain ranges, purple and majestic, also dies. And your smile, with which we watch you do gracious battle with unjust characterizations, distortions and lies, is that expression of healthy self-worth, spirit and soul, that, kept happy and free and relaxed, can find an answering smile in all of us, lighting our way, and brightening the world.We are the ones we have been waiting for.In Peace and Joy,Alice Walker