New post up on Human Beings. Being Humans
Hawai'i Local 'This Byrd is Flying to Sweden'
"I never felt comfortable with conventional schooling. It was not the right fit for me. It felt as if I was always being measured agaisnt the wrong ruler. Every moment I spent at my public high school I was itching to be home working on my own project. I loved creating beauty from cast off material, working with patience and intuition."
- Zena Byrd
Last week, Dace, put out an invitation to the household.
On Saturday, I walked into our cozy little library and found that many others had also decided to answer her call. Dace spent her internship in LA, where she was introduced to, Street Poets inc. "
Since this experience, Dace has found a force in poetry, and this force is what we had gathered to share with her. Dace read us a poem called 'Singularity', first once and then twice more, as a sort of echo by two other individuals. We all sat and listened, leaning into each other in the tiny space. She then asked us to write from this place for fifteen minutes. I was surprised when my pen suddenly jumped to attention in my fingers. I had something to say, or rather, something to remember. The poem below is a time piece. A taste of images from a time before YIP. After fifteen minutes, we made a round, reading to each other, and again repeating just once so the listener could really fall in.
Today: And The Memory
I'm remembering Freedom
black dresses on hot days is one
stopping traffic with my tears the taste of my
and rage. my own name.
Freedom I'm remembering
it speaks of fire him and age,
and desolation. and the flooding of the bridge
I'm remembering and the memory.
barefoot shoes Today
along muddy paths and
and that stream the memory.
that brought my dreams.
alongside bright red
and the echoing of your name
in the halls of my brain.
is not plural
It is a place of magic here. Still warm with the feeling of autumn on my heels.
Crisp and tart like the apples that litter the grounds. They are my forewarning these apples. So bright and bold upon first impression, they pucker my mouth at the first bite. I can't stop eating them.
I wake early to clouds that touch the ground. They completely swallow the light, and then slowly, slowly lift off, and then the sun is here. The sun makes everything look like a storybook drawing. I spend more time here in the sun then I do at home, because not only am I warned multiple times a day, but I can feel it. The winter of our physical and emotional world is on the horizon.
Today we hold eyes and smile, tagging names to faces and places. We skim surfaces with friendly questions, because this is brand new. I am brand new, you are brand new, nice to meet you.
Tomorrow we unravel. Until we break through the Spring ice with new skin.
This is the work.
I can feel it.
Until then, acrobatics between trees, and wonderment at this blessing of having found ourselves Here. Together.
This is my promise.
I will keep my palms open wide, and even if I do not agree, I will listen.
Across one Continent.
Two Oceans. Two Sunrises.
Yippies making their way home