More Guate Poems

I wrote this one after visiting the Hospital. Last Summer was my first time working there and believe me when I say carrying a hundred cinder blocks up a mountain side on the Construction work team, or picking 300lbs of coffee with the Coffee work team is far easier than sitting in the hospital with all the sick, disabled, and abandoned people trying to have a beautiful experience some place so intrinsically sad. It's one of those feelings that kind of sticks to your soul. So when we had our poetry workshop and I set the kids to writing it was still on my mind, then something strange happened. The sky turned yellow. I was convinced that it was going to storm, but actually my host mom says that it's a sign that it won't rain for the next 10-15 days, that we're in some kind of summer stasis before the winter starts up again.

Sepia Afternoon
(For Oscar)

I felt the light shift
the sudden coolness in the breeze
and I thought of you
in your courtyard
surrounded by the orange blossoms
you would never see
would you be chilly
or would the wind be like the
familiar caress of the woman
you spoke of from your other lifetime
the one where you were whole
or closer to it,
a member of a family
long since disappeared
do you dream of them still
their faces the only images
left to play upon
the blank screen of your eyelids
as you slide beads onto string
do you number them
like days
and wonder
how many lifetimes
are left for you
to pay for your mistakes
as I wonder
will I be sent the bill for mine
does it bother you to never see my face
or it enough to recognize
my voice and the warmth of me
sitting beside you
in our sepia afternoon
you with your blindness
confined to your eyes
and me with mine
impairing my ability
to see beyond the wicked
shape of things
the way we all conspire
to perpetuate
the systems that pin us all in place
like frozen constellations
and our stars are so far apart
it seems impossible
that we would even coincide
if only to share a moment
in this sepia afternoon
already a forgotten photo
of a place I don't often dare to remember
because to remember is to admit
that I am neither as good or as noble
as I would like to believe
nor as worthy of the privilege
to squeeze your hand
before I say goodbye
and walk away from you
again.


Since the start of the trip I have been thinking a lot about happiness, partly because in almost all of the reflections some kid mentions that they are amazed at how happy people are despite the poverty. And I never quite know how to respond to this because I feel like they are missing a piece. So here is what I wrote.

My Smile
Please don't mistake
this smile
for happiness
I smile because
I have nothing left
so here is my silent act of
revolution
the waving flag
of my indestructible nation
Proof
that there is a part of me
that will never be colonized.
Strip me of my heart language
outlaw my cultural existence
use my own fabric
to brand my tribe
and then commence your genocide
Yes there are days
when I will cry
when I'll be forced
to run and hide
to fight and die
to wonder why
but when I can
I try to smile
to make sure I have
one thing left
that you can't own
to buy or sell.

This one I wrote for my homestay mom.

Casa de la Carola

eggs and black beans
pan frances and hot coffee
always buen provecho
when I come to her home
siempre bienvenidos
I never feel alone
because within these blue walls,
hung with portrait, sheltering a courtyard
full of turtles
I find my family
see something of my grandmother
in the wisdom of her hand
shaping tortillas
hear echos of my dad
in her laughter
when she tells me dirty jokes
there is something universal
in the way she heaps my plate full
and demands I eat it all.
It's the kiss on my cheek to day good night
the cup of hot chamomile
to sooth an upset stomach.
When I walk the streets
I am a stranger in a strange land
but when I'm here,
I'm home.
I'm loved.

Greetings from Guate- a few poems

Has it really been so long since my last post...well I guess it's bittersweet. I've been busy in 2012 enjoying my new home and still navigating the difficult awesomeness that is my career. Here I am again in San Miguel Escobar, Guatemala, on my first trip of the year with just a few days remaining. The common sentiment in this trip has been YOGO-You Only Guatemala Once...which I guess for me is not exactly true since this is my fourth trip. But in other ways it is absolutely true because this trip has been completely different from the others.

I guess part of that can be attributed to the fact that I met these kids in October and have been with them every culture night and through the retreat as well. Many of them have worked with me in the office as well, so I know them a little differently than the other groups. Also I think it's maybe just this time in my life where I am really kind of stepping back and thinking about what is important and what I really want to accomplish.

Becoming a part of GV has been one of the most challenging, but also rewarding experiences of my life. I have learned a lot about myself and better still gotten the opportunity to really get to know my program participants in a way that has changed us both. And I have a lot to say about it, but for now I am just going to share a few poems I've written on this trip. One of the kids of my trip is a Slam poet and just an awesome human being and he has inspired me to reconnect with art.

The Perfect GV Circle

Stand with me
arms crossed,
hand in hand,
shoe tips toe to toe
arched in a linear curve
To my right, I can see you
every face, every eye
to my left, you are present
every spirit, every sigh
drop and sit
and you are a jumble
of knees and slumped shoulders
hat brims pulled down low,
voices soft with the fear that
someone might actually hear you
see more than
your face, your eyes,
your shoe tips toe to toe
what would happen
if you opened your mouth too wide and
out flew a bit of your soul
that's what you don't want to know
will you be judged
will you be told
that who you are is not
enough
So you hide behind
the silence of
"I don't know what to say"
But there comes a point
where you must learn
to trust that you'll be okay
Because nothing's ever promised
all we have is just today
yesterday is over
and tomorrow's always
a day away
so just open up your mouth
and say what you've got to say
or better yet open up your heart,
but first stand up and put yourself all in
complete the circle
round it out and don't give in
to the fear
that you won't be perfect
that it won't be right
cause when it's all of us together
and you know the group is tight
you'll realize that
perfection lives inside
the flaws you've been trying to hide.


Some of us
(Written after the discussion on the 36 year civil war)

What money doesn't change is that
we are all biodegradable
collections of flesh and bones
teeth, eyes, hair, and chromosones
but some of us are human beings
and some of us are target practice
some of us bleed and have feelings
and some of us are seen as less
How casually we speak of casualties
of accidents and incidents
number the victims instead of naming
those who were never of any consequence
because some of us are human beings
and some of us are target practice
disposable lives that have no meaning
other than inconvenience
those whose need for
power, money, oil, fruit, land, whatever
exceeds their capacity to see
that some of us are human beings
and some of us are murders
liar, monsters, and theives
consumed with a bottomless obsession with greed
with the need to always take more
no matter what the price
the need to shelter in a toxic paradise
whose glittery borders are paved
with the remains of anyone who
might oppose, who might suggest
that some of us are human beings.