Sex, Death and Racism – Artist’s Exposé

  My Racism    I’ll begin at the end. I started reading FB conversations about racism, seeing comments about white people, white pathology, white ignorance; every comment hit, hurt, a truth that lived in me. My responses on certain threads: white fragility poster...

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Words

  Keeping my eyes open to the pain of our society makes my heart strong; I return to the new day with a force as mighty as the love of a thousand mothers.   Our silence is white noise: Soap bubbles of empty joy. Globalized indifference.   I am being used by grief, I...

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If I Could

  These broken breaking hearts I hear at night and in the dawn light. If I could drink the pain out of your heart, eat it from your core and leave only the light of your brilliance in its place, I would. If I could I would suck the ache from your bones leaving the...

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On Writing

  The writing comes to me vaguely at first, distracted and at the same instance prepared for anything. Ready and waiting. Crippled little words that long for legs and arms free from pain or pinch. Alone, I wonder if I can move the world, here, I know I can. The editor...

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Can I Do This?

  To one who knows they do not know. A thought hits, between coffee or tea or cereal or eggs, And the day ahead says, “can I do this?” or, “who am I to do this?”, or “why must I do this?” And yet we do it, be it from the sweet breath of our existence or the full flood...

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Her Part in the Mystery

Sweet little plunks into consciousness, then a whisp of forgetfulness and I am sailing the ripples of thought creating itself. I am full now. Filled by life, filled by hope again, and by the creations in my womb that reach for the dawn every morning. I am silently...

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America

  America, you give me the ripping ache I used to think was love, you strip my eyes from their glowing twinkle and throw them down to the concrete earth, stomping to the pulse of a drumbeat the drumbeat you listened to while fighting your wars,  those stampedes of ego...

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Remembering Now

  In the secret hours of my existence, I dance inside a world of words. Every year my body ages, my mind becomes more alive and wild. I am an ancient banyan tree, growing in reverse toward the seed that dropped from Magdalena's hands on her long journey to the free...

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Forgiveness

  I regret laying there as long as I did while his fingers were inside of me. I regret not telling my mother or my friend's mother or him. I didn't say, this is not ok, you can't do this to young girls, you are sick and need help. I regret not telling more people when...

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Water

  Once, while I was sitting beside a river, I asked water, “How do you move with such grace, allowing nothing to deter your joy of flowing?” Water softly replied, “I don’t separate myself from myself.” “Yes, that does create discomfort, but if I become so integrated,...

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Hold on to Life

  Hold on to life, the engineer who can calculate love. Hold on to life, the beggar who can’t remember why, hold on to life. Hold on to life, the child who lies ill in a dark desert, hold on to life. Hold on to life, the elephant who mourns by his brother for days....

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Love

  I sleep in madness and beauty. What is this interminable disease of longing that plagues me? I am a Shakespearian devotee dying from drama. Fantasy or reality? Yet she lives so honestly in both realms that what could be called a lie by some was, for her, the whole...

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Autobiography

So fully have I stepped into a life I created in my mind’s eye, a life that I called to out loud, singing and dancing on roof tops, for this life, I burned prayers and dipped my hair in the Ganges, for this life I built small rock towers near temples in Kyoto, for...

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Village of Voices

Spring does not surrender; it is a season that pushes and demands, beckons and confronts, stirs and solicits. Spring wants what winter left unfinished. The cool sunshine lifts birds from their stillness, ignites flight and finds pairs of two in trees, on telephone...

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