Looking for Poetry

This poem has been published online at www.voicesinwartime.org and in the Berkeley Daily Planet, a fine, lively local newspaper. I wrote the original version in April 2003 during Spring Break. Since I'm a a poet and writer as well as a creative writing teacher in schools and community programs (4-5 programs every school year), I use my Spring Breaks to write and catch up on my sleep. This poem is 3 years old and it's still news.

I've been working to tighten it up, and this is the most recent version:

Looking for Poetry

Last night, Sekou Sundiata said it was
an honor to be an artist at this time.
He talked about the imagination, and its power.
Things could be different, if we could imagine them so.
I can’t remember his exact words and I’m wanting
to hear more powerful words than the ones
I’ve been hearing on the street, on the radio, in the classroom.

I turn on the TV, flip past tanks, smoke, sand, helmets,
and balding, gray-haired men with mouths moving.
I blink at maps with no words; with dots, and
magic lines that multiply to show routes
from one place to another. I can’t imagine those places.

I can’t imagine those places because of my ignorance.
I’ve never been to the part of the world
someone lazily named “The Middle East,”
and I live in a land where many believe
it’s not important for me to ever imagine anything;
a place where far too many people have forgotten
that they have an imagination.

I can feel how far away I am from things that
might be important for me to remember.
This frustrates me and makes me look for poetry;
sends me off to write instead of dust,
worry, or stand still in the muck.

Instead of thinking about whether any of us
have a future as coral reefs die, ancestors’ graves
are pushed to the surface, the polar ice cap melts,
and yet another country is leveled through war;
I wonder how we stay human.

Aren’t we all diminished every time homes, governments,
land, and monetary systems are thrown into upheaval?
Are our drums, songs, poems, dances, rituals, prayers,
dreams, wishes, and stories losing their power?

Maybe what I’m really asking is: will
enough of us turn from hollow words
and images to something that will sustain us?
Maybe what I really want to know is whether
dancing, writing, and singing words will sustain me.

Joyce E. Young
©April 2003, August 2006, Reprint or Copy with Permission Only

Love , Passion, War

I'm still hearing the words "Who owns the sky," and the words about the younger cousin who thinks there are monsters under his/her bed, the mother holding the hours-old baby who's skin has turned to ash, mothers, fathers, wives, images electrifying, horrifying, real. Images and words from messages of people in Lebanon and Palestine and here were woven together this evening with voices and instruments singing. In the face of denial and amnesia, these words, voices, and music rose and made heat. Heat radiating from energy transformed through creativity. The best kind of heat to be warmed by. This was "Cease Fire: An evening of poetry and music against the siege of Lebanon and Palestine" at La Pena Cultural Center, an evening organized by Elmaz Abindader and Nadine Ghammache. They are women of community and heart and we are fortunate to have them here in the Bay Area. We are fortunate to have them in the world. These times are not easy and as was said, putting the rage, grief, sadness, frustration into art is what artists do. Amen

What does it take to restore hope?

I've been working on this one recently, revising it to make it flow. Here's the most recent version........



Recipe for Hope

Ingredients

Five 2 month-old babies
Six elders sitting and talking
10 laughing kids
2 Pregnant women, almost to term
1 year’s worth of blank pages
Endless emotional support
1 Good Friend
1 small illusion about yourself

Instructions

Take five 2 month-old babies and kiss them, one by one as you hold them and hug them gently and lovingly. Quietly smell each of them for 3 minutes while you perform this sacred act.

Sit in a rocker beside 6 elders who have known each another for 30 years and listen. Pay attention to everything they say. Try to develop your tolerance for gossip, wisdom and elders.

Hang out on the playground for 1 week with 10 laughing kids under the age of 12. Play whatever games they ask you to—double-dutch, tether ball, monkey bars. Never think that you don’t have enough time to spend with them. Never think about time.

Go on a shopping trip with two pregnant women. Help them carry their bags, and choose just the right food for those late night cravings. Be patient with their constant need to go to the bathroom. Imagine what it might be like to loan your body to another person rent-free for 9 months. What would you have to do to reach such a large and selfless goal? Use metaphor when necessary to increase your understanding.

Sit for 15 minutes every day looking at one year’s worth of blank pages. Make this your meditation practice.

Extend the emotional support you want for yourself to a loved one. Choose a friend, relative, pet or neighbor to be the recipient of this gift. Remember that pets usually can’t talk or send thank you cards.

Allow 1 good friend to call you every day to see how you’re feeling and take you to breakfast, lunch or dinner. Accept the peace of mind, safety, restful sleep and dream-filled nights that friendship can bring.

Hold one small illusion about yourself and think about it for 5 minutes a day for 5 days. Then, toss all of your illusions about yourself and get on with living your life.

c Joyce E. Young
Reprint or Copy with Permission Only