LiberationPoemsWeek 6 “Why not go toward the things I love?”
Poems written by Untold Stories poets in response to the prompt “Why not go toward the things I love?” from Grief Work by Natalie Díaz.
A Movement
- Erica B. Edwards
Move toward the discomfort
Toward the wild ride
of silences
And tantrums
And judgement
Toward more conversations
that break open your heart
And rupture the platitudes shaping your bubble
Light the short fuse
More temperamental than ever before
And watch it explode
Before unfolding the posture of a peaceful warrior
Lean into the discomfort
And hold on to the people you love
In all of their brokenness
Through all the burdens we carry alone
Together
Legs planted still in the uncertainty of uncertainty
Trusting that everything is occurring
as it should
While you quake and (re)member to breathe
Even in the face of death
And if we cannot bear it
If the tears well but don’t fall
If the anger seethes down your throat
And lodges in the pit of your stomach
You may excuse yourself
To walk a body’s length alone
Although your back aches
And your hips are stiff
And you must stop to catch your breath
While everyone around you runs
The pose remains elusive
Nothing looks the way it does on TV
There may be no serendipitous ending
No triumphant, self-actualized protagonist
Whose quest brings fantastic clarity
And Christ-like triumph
But instead
Movement toward
New discomforts
New tensions to till the earth with
To create the nutrients made possible through decay
What beautiful ugliness
Exists in discomfort
What beautiful ugliness
Exists in discomfort
Choosing
- Ugbaad Keynan
I don't have that right
It was never given to me
By those who made me
and through that creation own me.
I'm bound by chains of maternal love and paternal expectations
But also by culture and religion
And my sex and race.
The history of my life reads like a tragedy to some.
Of loves lost time and time again
Of love becoming weaponized and used against me
Of love that consumes all and leaves me with nothing else.
I've learned to sweeten my tea with the crushed dreams and shattered hopes
I've accumulated over the years.
A small comfort.
I'm a willing captor and active participant in the entrapment I exist in.
I've come to the pitiful conclusion that I prefer to live in this
Sheltered state
Instead of continuing to go towards the things I love.
It's really the only option
When your heart has been broken so many times
And there is nothing left to break.
How Did I Forget Interdependence?
- Desiraé Simmons
Isn't it heavy?
Well, I'm strong so I can carry it.
Can you really only be three?
What will you be forced to carry?
A whole armful.
Where are you going to take it?
Everywhere I go.
Why do you keep adding more?
Because more can fit.
When will you know it's enough?
Oh, it'll get so heavy, I'll know.
Then what will you do?
Ask for help of course.
What does that look like?
I'll say, "it's too hard."
If it's really as simple as that, why not go toward the things I love?
What are the things you love?
The simple things like,
A smile of gratitude or an offer of support.
Why is that so heavy?
I guess it's a weight I place on myself.
Do you think you're alone?
Sometimes...though I know I'm not.
So, now what are you going to do?
I'm going to cast out and let the ocean of love buoy me.
Can I come too?
Of course, it is you who showed me the way.
How does freedom feel like while walking my path?
- Erika Murcia
It feels like an abundance of love
But don't get me wrong
here I am not talking about
profitable empty "love"
here I am contesting extractive toxic
practices that deprive me from freedom
It feels like living in my wholeness
Which in turn calls me
to the embodiment of
cleansing my spirit
so I can stand in acceptance of all
What I've been
What I am and
What I could become
It feels like the ecstasy of being in movements
Because pure love
is an ongoing healing practice for reclaiming home
in which care is collective
in which community is at the center
in which nourishment depends on
Interconnection
Coexisting with one another
Living with the conviction that change happens
It feels like the orgasmic power of creativity
Kissing Mother Earth
As a vow to her in humility
For breastfeeding me during a lifetime
Holding my womb
With a soft gentle touch
In appreciation for her power
In connecting me with my roots
Salsa dancing
As I welcome our ancestral wisdom
there is freedom in growing corn
our gift from the goddesses
there is inner freedom
RIGHT HERE.