If the back & arms you carry riddle with black
spots & marks made by birds who don’t want us here—
I will remind you: There are people who did this before us,
brown & black-spotted, yellow, with rattails,
born from what others did not want & loathed & aimed
to never let belong, & so, we are here today—
the field is wide. We make saliva from root & light.
Our spikelets grow, & do you feel the wind?
- Joe Jiménez, Smutgrass
Orlando. Dhaka. Istanbul. Baghdad. Medina. Nice. The killings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, and the murder of police officers in Dallas and Baton Rouge. This summer, terrible bigotry and violence have rent our global community. The killings must end, and we in the poetry community must contribute in any way we can. As we search for answers to these horrors and for ways to combat hatred and prejudice, we are reminded of poetry’s capacity to respond to violence, to help us regenerate, like spikelets sprouting in a contested field, claiming our public spaces for everyone.
In solidarity with all those targeted at home and abroad, from the LGBT community in the United States to devastated families of Baghdad, Split This Rock is offering its blog as a Virtual Open Mic. Over the next couple of weeks, from July 14 to 28, we are requesting poems in response to and against violence toward marginalized communities. After the Virtual Open Mic closes, we hope to print out and mail all of the poems to Congress and the National Rifle Association.
***
a flor de piel
by María José Giménez
blooming on my skin
bloodied fields
of unbloomed children
blooming on my skin
railroad lines
of weeping elders
blooming on my skin
tu pais mi pais
blooming on my skin
nations built
by blistered hands
blooming on my skin
rageflooded maps
blooming on my skin
1 in 2 young men 1 in 2
blooming on my skin
49 flowers of glitter
blooming on my skin
almost 600 counted by July
blooming on my skin
dead weight unlifted
blooming on my skin
500 years of questions
blooming on my skin
the burden of blame
on everyone's shoulders
blooming on my skin
the burden of beauty
blooming on my skin
the violence of silence
blooming on my skin
la canción de amor
de la vieja molienda
blooming on my skin
chain gangs of names
yet to be said
blooming on my skin
sorrow songs
yet to be sung
blooming on my skin
hands showing palms
blooming on my skin
melaza que ríe
melaza que llora
blooming on my skin
tongues waking up
blooming on my skin
a song a prayer a vow
Previously published in The Roar Sessions.
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