Hello lovely people! As this year comes to an end, I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Holidays! Happy Festivus for the rest of us! And a very happy New Year! Whatever you are celebrating this week, may your hearts and your homes be full of peace, joy and love. <3
La Vita Nuova
In that book which is
My memory . . .
On the first page
That is the chapter when
I first met you
Appear the words . . .
Here begins a new life
– Dante Alighieri
Suheir Hammad’s poem “What I Will” about Resistance to the Israeli war machine and occupation of Palestine.
Def Poetry – Suheir Hammad – What I Will
What I will
I will not
dance to your war
drum. I will
not lend my soul nor
my bones to your war
drum. I will
not dance to your
beating. I know that beat.
It is lifeless. I know
intimately that skin
you are hitting. It
was alive once
hunted stolen
stretched. I will
not dance to your drummed
up war. I will not pop
spin beak for you. I
will not hate for you or
even hate you. I will
not kill for you. Especially
I will not die
for you. I will not mourn
the dead with murder nor
suicide. I will not side
with you nor dance to bombs
because everyone else is
dancing. Everyone can be
wrong. Life is a right not
collateral or casual. I
will not forget where
I come from. I
will craft my own drum. Gather my beloved
near and our chanting
will be dancing. Our
humming will be drumming. I
will not be played. I
will not lend my name
nor my rhythm to your
beat. I will dance
and resist and dance and
persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than
death. Your war drum ain’t
louder than this breath.
American Indian Legend about the butterfly:
If anyone desires a wish to come true they must first capture a butterfly and whisper that wish to it.
Since a butterfly can make no sound, the butterfly can not reveal the wish to anyone but the Great Spirit who hears and sees all.
In gratitude for giving the beautiful butterfly its freedom, the Great Spirit always grants the wish.
So, according to legend, by making a wish and giving the butterfly its freedom, the wish will be taken to the heavens and be granted.
Then there is this lovely Irish blessing:
May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun
And find your shoulder to light on,
To bring you luck, happiness and riches
Today, tomorrow and beyond.
Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil
Was melted down at noon,
And the caged yellow bird
Hung over her in tune,
He marked her through the pane,
He could not help but mark,
And only passed her by
To come again at dark.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
But he sighed upon the sill,
He gave the sash a shake,
As witness all within
Who lay that night awake.
Perchance he half prevailed
To win her for the flight
From the firelit looking-glass
And warm stove-window light.
But the flower leaned aside
And thought of naught to say,
And morning found the breeze
A hundred miles away.
Tossing and turning
Eyes are wide and aware
The digital numbers on the clock change slowly
Each minute taking an eternity to pass
There are no dreams here
Only harsh confrontation with reality
Too tired to sleep
Too tired to dream
Enter Sandman
Not awake, not asleep, lost in the infinite middle
The zone of awareness without motivation
Thirsts remain unquenched, hungers unsated
The mind drifts leaving the body behind
These become two separate existing forces
When will sleep reunite them?
Sanity has lost definition
Another endless night is closing
Reality will soon be reinforced by consequences
Rationalization dismisses the afterthoughts they possess
And I press the snooze button
Insomnia by Jennifer Hogenson
