We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business; we are each other's magnitude and bond. ― Gwendolyn Brooks
As we journey through political, economic, and global health crises, we turn to poetry to share truths that unearth underlying causes, illuminate impacts, and insist on transformative change. For many of us, today’s challenges are not new. The struggle of isolation, economic insecurity, inadequate medical care, deadly institutionalized negligence, governmental decisions that put Black, Brown, Indigenous, Asian, disabled, sick, and other structurally precarious people at greater risk are not new. Today, many more people are experiencing the vulnerability of these unrelenting issues. We recognize this opportunity for a heightened awareness of how our very survival depends on one another.
Poetry can help keep the flame of resilience, solidarity, and resistance alive in us. It can help us process and move through grief, anger, loneliness. Poetry can be a comfort when the most necessary actions are to rest and recover. It can remind us of what’s at stake, that our lives and legacy are worth the fight. As cultural workers, we know that culture shapes our political and social imagination at a foundational level. As poets, we can use poetry to map what is, what has been, and possibly, the way forward, including the reasons not to return to what does not honor and protect our lives, our communities, and our planet.
We asked poets to give us the words they chant to get out of bed, to raise their fists, to encourage their kin, to remind us, as this crisis does, that “we are each other’s business; we are each other’s magnitude and bond.” To read all of these poems, visit Split This Rock’s website.***
Litany for American People
By Lois Roma-Deeley
and nowhere all at once.
Inside the tv, there we are.
Or standing at the window.
Or through walks through the park
There we are, neighbor to neighbor,
gloved hand to gloved hand,
the untouching high five. We are
the virtual laugh from a computer.
The masked sighs.
Lonely dances in the darkened rooms.
We are the song of singing balconies.
The eyes behind plastic shields.
That parade of honking cars.
We are packages on the porch.
Or the single blessing at a funeral.
A hand chalking the sidewalk—stay strong.
Listen as Lois Roma-Deeley reads "Litany for American People."