poetry

the cautious committee

the cautious committee

the committee commits to take no action that might possibly be construed as offensive
the committee thus takes no action
except to endlessly examine whether a potential action has the potential to offend
the committee does not trust anyone’s judgment as to what might be offensive
(including its own)
so it will strip all warm, individual messages
of their warmth and individuality
before sending the sanitized versions
out into the world
where they will register with the cold neutral resonance
of a clean computer-generated auto-response

the committee respectfully requests that it be forgiven
for not engaging in the potentially perilous act
of accepting the crushing responsibility
of humbly requesting forgiveness

poetry

forgiveness

forgiveness

one day after I nick him with the scissors
he says next time his hair is in his eyes
I may try again

I believe in second chances he says
with all the gravity of a 9-year-old
who has come to accept adult failings

what greater gift could there be
from your own child’s lips?

poetry

Dias Beach Absolution

Dias Beach Absolution

upon rounding sharp cliffs
after the men voted no confidence
and the final three days the crew allowed
before their bellies would mutiny
(a pathetically short extension
to reach a hopelessly faraway shore)
had elapsed with no end of Africa in sight
after he halted and buried
he dreams of Indian spices
at Kwaaihoek on the eastern Cape
the unused padrões lay heavy in the hold
and the threat of returning
to the mindless minding of Lisbon’s warehouses
grew more terrifying with each league
of aquamarine the São Cristóvão sliced through
he saw this crescent of inviting beach
and he fell upon it

I forgive you,
Bartolomeu,
for wanting to sink your ankles
in fine white sand
for wishing to slake your salty thirst
with waterfall
for wanting to warm yourself
by a blaze fed by armloads of driftwood
for nestling your body
into the yielding dunes
that molded themselves to your hips
for soiling this land with your unwanted presence

before the Khoikhoi hurled rocks in righteous anger
before the Cabo das Tormentas
seized your own heart and limbs
despite all the damage
your kind wrought
I forgive your need for one night
of slowly spinning stars

poetry

Our Hope for Humanity: Vuyi with diopmawu and me

When we visited the Norval Foundation art museum in Cape Town, South Africa today I was delighted to find wonderful poetry handwritten on sacred texts scattered around the exhibits. I asked at the front desk about the artist who created this work, and was told that it was part of a performance piece that day called Historical Glitch, and the artist would be performing at 2pm. We had already signed up for a guided tour at that time, so I also asked the guide if we needed to choose between the two events, and she explained that the artist would perform at the end. Our family waited to see what would happen, and a woman with a very long braid descended the stairs and then sat among spiritual implements like drums, stones, flowers, red clay, and a pan of water. A man knelt in front of her and they took hands and quietly talked while she washed and massaged his hands in ritual fashion. It was a loving and forgiving gesture. I thought maybe he was part of the performance piece, but then she looked at me and invited me to join her. She explained that we were doing an intervention to heal the wounds of division from colonialism and the harming of our earth, to remember that we are all one. It was very moving, and in our brief conversation she intuited some things about me that were spot on. Owen took a turn, too. It was another gift from the universe – the only way that I even heard about the museum was thanks to the fact that yesterday when we had lunch we walked past the Simons Town information center. I don’t usually go into those, but something made me double back and see what information they had. The Norval brochure said “Where art, architecture, and nature meet” – yes, please! Today our main goal was to go to the Indonesian consulate, and it ended up being a quick visit because they explained they only issue visas to South African nationals. Unsure what to do instead, I sifted through the brochures and noticed that Norval has a monthly free day on the first Thursday of the month – today! And it was on our way back home. We stopped at their lovely restaurant first, but through a mixup it took about an hour for our order to even be taken – another stroke of luck, since we probably would have left before two otherwise. When you’re open to it, the universe finds a way. Tonight I did some research and found her name: Vuyi Qubeka. When she performs, her name is listed as “Vuyi Qubeka with diopmawu,” which I think means her spirit guides/ancestors. I didn’t find a website or email address for her, but she’s active on Instagram and Twitter, and you can watch her TED talk about becoming a healer: “Don’t Die with Your Song Still Inside You.” I incorporated some of her well-chosen words in this thank you gift which I hope makes its way to her!

Our Hope for Humanity: Vuyi with diopmawu and me

she comes bearing songs
born of red clay,
an intervention
inviting audacious hope

she holds a circle of water
that dissolves guilt,
makes new space
for radical compassion:
the resolve to see
All One Always

palm to palm
we make a circuit –
loving energy looping
round our own tiny peaceful
world of now,
smiling eye to eye,
joyful servants to the work
of binding wounds
and stitching things whole
even as the seams strain

poetry

four faces

Owen took this photo of Spidey the other day.

four faces

locked in an argument
about essentials:
safety and love –
our boys aren’t speaking
(to each other –
they are ranting to us)
then Owen unexpectedly crosses
no-man’s land
calmly says
there’s something Cedar should see
we all look up
(some more skeptically than others)
Spidey has a family
he announces
and we all spill out of the house
gaze up into the rafters
where a line of four sweet chipmunks
placidly gaze back at us
smiles wide between their cheeks
absolve us all
without lifting a paw
let us move on
to the hugging
part of the day