they have taken the village/your block is on fire/in the unsuspecting hours of December near Christmas/of September 1973/of Spring Break/of Election Day/while the world whirrs onward in electric bliss. your brother/your neighbor/her husband/has been flattened in his car/has been burned in her house/has simply disappeared. your sister/your teacher/his daughter/split into limbs and trunk portions/by bulldozer/by machete/by soldier boys/by good neighbors/the body/unmade as couch cushions on curbsides/flung into stinking pits/mineshafts/buried away and denied/an endless sum of empty bodies
where have the voices gone
the mad prophets in the wilderness
angry cameras and frantic pens to catch
one hundred
two hundred thousand
lives spilled out of the glass
-just a blade across a windshield
a flick of the remote
America yawns in her sleep
in Basra, women lie under a spitting sky
outside the torn pages of their ancestral homes
in Sudan, the devil rides out of nightmares
dripping poison and dust
and in Aceh, in Rwanda -
remainders are carried
and crossed out
as columns in a ledger
the children America has abandoned are terrified of water, grass, and open sky
Dear Victor Jara, today I heard of a family
and a best Sunday suit
burned in the street
and I am stuffed with grief
hands pilot unmanned
into dishes and dinner
seeking out some utensil to grasp
for you
I press fingertips into the darkness of a bedroom
and pack unsteady prayers
into the slightest part that yields
they took your hands, Victor Jara
kicked your guitar at you
and told you to play
America tells herself
in the mirror
"we are doing all we can"
I tell myself in the mirror
"I am so sorry"
we fill our cars we walk our dogs
apologies evaporating
useless as second-hand smoke
you see,
unlike the books i have promised to read
thank you cards never sent -
the world will not wait
patiently
this is picking up speed
people are dying faster
more efficiently
you were only one of a million -
Chile, Rwanda, Darfur, and Jenin
buried in newspapers and prisons
under Paris Hilton and the irony of "Survivor"
you are an accident I overheard on the radio
and it is your story, Victor Jara
that holds your name among folk heroes
America waits for lives
to become legends
before rousing
from the comfort of indifference
where have our prophets gone?
their voices choked with blood and hope -
artists and activists,
charged
to point and shoot
as watchers, light-bringers -
write the sentence that will stop a bullet
write the poem that will crush a heart
remake it into an open hand
pass the story mouth to mouth
as if lungs depended on it
let words light themselves in effigy
on the white house lawn
say something
to stop this train - or just drive it into the wreckage yourself
art is the little red coat
in the grey sea
the hope of the world
is the angry American
with a tight purse
and a pena paintbrush
and postage
it is an unjust world
that takes hands away
only from those that would use them
Kyrie Eleison, Victor
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
Born Slippy.
My mood right now? Pretty optimistic. This year seems to be unfolding nicely, and even though everything is still pretty up in the air about what I'm doing next year, I'm actually not that stressed about it. I have my moments, but the beautiful weather is proving to be therapeutic. No matter what happens, at least in retrospect it was probably a beautiful day while I was stressin'. I kind of feel like it's a warm blanket wrapped around me.
Yesterday was Mother's Day and I had work from 2-8 at the diner. The night before, I was dreading even waking up and knowing that I would be reminded periodically throughout the day that it was Mother's Day, just by little girls running around and being hugged by their moms, or older women buying their elderly mothers a pricey entree. I freaked out in the morning pretty much as soon as I woke up. Got myself under control and figured I'd be okay for work, it would be too busy for me to think about things other than which customer ordered the 'broiled captain's seafood platter' and who needed another iced tea. Everything seemed to be going alright, I made it a whole 4 hours into my shift with no complications, well, haaaa, except for wiping out on a tile floor near the coffee machine that was just mopped. 'Yah just gotta laugh it off' I kept telling myself. That was a good one. Maybe I'll get tipped more if my table saw me wipe out while I was catering to their needs and getting them another lemonade. (Nope.) Anyway, after 4 hours had passed, I got seated more tables than I could handle, and I was running around like a madwoman. For one of my tables, the cooks fucked up an entree I had brought out and I was getting major complaints. I apologized out the ass and brought it back in to get fixed, and for some reason I just started hyperventilating. Everyone around me saw that I was flustered and was in my face asking me what I needed, even my boss, I felt majorly claustrophobic and almost felt like I was going to faint. My boss told me to calm down and just breathe, and for some reason that set it off, I threw my hands up in defeat and retreated into the smoking room offside the kitchen where the employees are banished for smoke breaks. I knew I was going to freak out and I hate anyone seeing me cry or become unglued. My vision went black for a couple seconds and so I put my head in my hands. I couldn't stop shaking or calm my breathing, it was terrifying me. I can't remember the last time I've gotten like that. I had three tables that I should have been worrying about, and I couldn't go out there if every time I tried to compose myself and talk, no words would come out. That's what happens when I'm visibly upset and crying, I can't form words. Molly came in to check on me and I managed to stammer at her that she needed to get my boss, I couldn't do this. This was just too hard of a day for me and I hadn't even really realized. My boss came in, I choked on more words while trying to tell her what was going on with me and that it wasn't really the pressure that was making me freak out. She gave me a hug, told me to breathe and calm down, and to buck up and go finish up my tables. It took me about 10 minutes to stop hyperventilating, not helping that my customers probably thought their waitress was a nutjob. I had one of the other waitresses give the check to one of my tables, and then tried to calm myself down and handle the other two. I apologized profusely to both tables, who seemed to understand. For me that was funny and comforting. I kind of forget that I'm serving people that have feelings and freak out every once in a while in their lives just like I do. They were all really understanding, one of the elderly women even recited a poem that she wrote for her mother once she had passed, it was amazing. I have more faith in people now I think.
After all my tables left I called my dad who had called me earlier asking me to dinner at his house, which I accepted now that I was off work early. He came and got me, and we held hands the entire way home. We got home, he made me a burrito, I drank some wine with he and Laurie while watching the last episode of Survivor which they seem to be obsessed with, then Laurie decided to go to bed. My dad got out some old home movies of when I was not even a year old, a tape with plenty of good shots of my mother in it, glowing with absolute happiness, just like a new mother. My dad told me stories of all my 'firsts', and about all the family members that I didn't remember that would appear every once in a while in the tape. It was such a comfort, and such a golden moment for my dad and I, because last night was the first time he actually talked to me like an equal rather than a teenager who doesn't know what they're doing. I'm sure the wine was definitely a catalyst, as well as the cannabis, but I appreciate it all the same.
I'm a happy girl.
Yesterday was Mother's Day and I had work from 2-8 at the diner. The night before, I was dreading even waking up and knowing that I would be reminded periodically throughout the day that it was Mother's Day, just by little girls running around and being hugged by their moms, or older women buying their elderly mothers a pricey entree. I freaked out in the morning pretty much as soon as I woke up. Got myself under control and figured I'd be okay for work, it would be too busy for me to think about things other than which customer ordered the 'broiled captain's seafood platter' and who needed another iced tea. Everything seemed to be going alright, I made it a whole 4 hours into my shift with no complications, well, haaaa, except for wiping out on a tile floor near the coffee machine that was just mopped. 'Yah just gotta laugh it off' I kept telling myself. That was a good one. Maybe I'll get tipped more if my table saw me wipe out while I was catering to their needs and getting them another lemonade. (Nope.) Anyway, after 4 hours had passed, I got seated more tables than I could handle, and I was running around like a madwoman. For one of my tables, the cooks fucked up an entree I had brought out and I was getting major complaints. I apologized out the ass and brought it back in to get fixed, and for some reason I just started hyperventilating. Everyone around me saw that I was flustered and was in my face asking me what I needed, even my boss, I felt majorly claustrophobic and almost felt like I was going to faint. My boss told me to calm down and just breathe, and for some reason that set it off, I threw my hands up in defeat and retreated into the smoking room offside the kitchen where the employees are banished for smoke breaks. I knew I was going to freak out and I hate anyone seeing me cry or become unglued. My vision went black for a couple seconds and so I put my head in my hands. I couldn't stop shaking or calm my breathing, it was terrifying me. I can't remember the last time I've gotten like that. I had three tables that I should have been worrying about, and I couldn't go out there if every time I tried to compose myself and talk, no words would come out. That's what happens when I'm visibly upset and crying, I can't form words. Molly came in to check on me and I managed to stammer at her that she needed to get my boss, I couldn't do this. This was just too hard of a day for me and I hadn't even really realized. My boss came in, I choked on more words while trying to tell her what was going on with me and that it wasn't really the pressure that was making me freak out. She gave me a hug, told me to breathe and calm down, and to buck up and go finish up my tables. It took me about 10 minutes to stop hyperventilating, not helping that my customers probably thought their waitress was a nutjob. I had one of the other waitresses give the check to one of my tables, and then tried to calm myself down and handle the other two. I apologized profusely to both tables, who seemed to understand. For me that was funny and comforting. I kind of forget that I'm serving people that have feelings and freak out every once in a while in their lives just like I do. They were all really understanding, one of the elderly women even recited a poem that she wrote for her mother once she had passed, it was amazing. I have more faith in people now I think.
After all my tables left I called my dad who had called me earlier asking me to dinner at his house, which I accepted now that I was off work early. He came and got me, and we held hands the entire way home. We got home, he made me a burrito, I drank some wine with he and Laurie while watching the last episode of Survivor which they seem to be obsessed with, then Laurie decided to go to bed. My dad got out some old home movies of when I was not even a year old, a tape with plenty of good shots of my mother in it, glowing with absolute happiness, just like a new mother. My dad told me stories of all my 'firsts', and about all the family members that I didn't remember that would appear every once in a while in the tape. It was such a comfort, and such a golden moment for my dad and I, because last night was the first time he actually talked to me like an equal rather than a teenager who doesn't know what they're doing. I'm sure the wine was definitely a catalyst, as well as the cannabis, but I appreciate it all the same.
I'm a happy girl.
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