Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience – Lucinda Marshall

As the incoming administration builds its agenda of attack on marginalized people, on freedom of speech, on the earth itself, poetry will continue to be an essential voice of resistance. Poets will speak out in solidarity, united against hatred, systemic oppression, and violence and for justice, beauty, and community.

                

In this spirit, Split This Rock is offering its blog as a Virtual Open Mic. For the rest of this frightening month, January of 2017, we invite you to send us poems of resistance, power, and resilience.

We will post every poem we receive unless it is offensive (containing language that is derogatory toward marginalized groups, that belittles, uses hurtful stereotypes, explicitly condones or implies a call for violence, etc.). After the Virtual Open Mic closes, we hope to print out and mail all of the poems to the White House.

For guidelines on how to submit poems for this call, visit the Call for Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience blog post. 

***

Patriotism Reconsidered

By Lucinda Marshall

My anthem is the serenade of birds,

sung without regard for map lines

delineating human assumption of dominion

over that which cannot be possessed,

and I will not pledge allegiance to,

or defend a flag of illusory freedom.

As the sun greets each day,

I will bravely stand up--against

racism, gendered hate, and xenophobia.

I will join in solidarity

with those who block pipelines

and protest gun violence,

those who feed the hungry

and work to stop the school

to prison pipeline,

and with every person who works

for the common good.

Solemnly I swear not to tolerate

the revision of history to fit

a fraudulent justification for

perpetual war or

wanton destruction of Earth.

This is my oath of citizenship,

because to do anything else is treason.

Originally published as part of Indolent Books Transition Poem Series.

Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience – Hannah Jones

As the incoming administration builds its agenda of attack on marginalized people, on freedom of speech, on the earth itself, poetry will continue to be an essential voice of resistance. Poets will speak out in solidarity, united against hatred, systemic oppression, and violence and for justice, beauty, and community.

                

In this spirit, Split This Rock is offering its blog as a Virtual Open Mic. For the rest of this frightening month, January of 2017, we invite you to send us poems of resistance, power, and resilience.

We will post every poem we receive unless it is offensive (containing language that is derogatory toward marginalized groups, that belittles, uses hurtful stereotypes, explicitly condones or implies a call for violence, etc.). After the Virtual Open Mic closes, we hope to print out and mail all of the poems to the White House.

For guidelines on how to submit poems for this call, visit the Call for Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience blog post. 

***

A Cento for Black Poets

By Hannah Jones

Somebody almost walked off with all of my stuff.

A chameleon is inside, starving

After loving you

I can pray.

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair

America never was America to me.

If I should have the drive to seek

Rebellious Africans who didn’t waste the night with dreaming—

Whipped, once shipped

the chains fell off—

(We)    Die soon

            in our dreams, lashed by wind and streaming

            (a dream deferred)

            but let the world dream otherwise; we wear the mask.

Still, I rise.

I will stand with pride and address our soulful cries;

these days beyond fable, beyond faith.

Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience – Michael Kiesow Moore

As the incoming administration builds its agenda of attack on marginalized people, on freedom of speech, on the earth itself, poetry will continue to be an essential voice of resistance. Poets will speak out in solidarity, united against hatred, systemic oppression, and violence and for justice, beauty, and community.

                

In this spirit, Split This Rock is offering its blog as a Virtual Open Mic. For the rest of this frightening month, January of 2017, we invite you to send us poems of resistance, power, and resilience.

We will post every poem we receive unless it is offensive (containing language that is derogatory toward marginalized groups, that belittles, uses hurtful stereotypes, explicitly condones or implies a call for violence, etc.). After the Virtual Open Mic closes, we hope to print out and mail all of the poems to the White House.

For guidelines on how to submit poems for this call, visit the Call for Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience blog post. 

***

What I Have Learned So Far

By Michael Kiesow Moore

The world is a broken heart.

We have a choice:

steel our hearts

raise the fortress doors

keep all pain out

   or—

Stand inside all the brokenness

let our hearts break again and again

open to all the sorrow

call it in

Previously published in What to Pray For (Nodin Press), 2015.

Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience – Liz Minette

As the incoming administration builds its agenda of attack on marginalized people, on freedom of speech, on the earth itself, poetry will continue to be an essential voice of resistance. Poets will speak out in solidarity, united against hatred, systemic oppression, and violence and for justice, beauty, and community.

                

In this spirit, Split This Rock is offering its blog as a Virtual Open Mic. For the rest of this frightening month, January of 2017, we invite you to send us poems of resistance, power, and resilience.

We will post every poem we receive unless it is offensive (containing language that is derogatory toward marginalized groups, that belittles, uses hurtful stereotypes, explicitly condones or implies a call for violence, etc.). After the Virtual Open Mic closes, we hope to print out and mail all of the poems to the White House.

For guidelines on how to submit poems for this call, visit the Call for Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience blog post. 

***

my scorpio broke

By Liz Minette

keychain, with its

faded little homily

on back noting

lucky day and

numbers

-

it rattles around in the car

coffee cup holder

radio reports

the people are

standing strong,

sacred stone

camp, to keep

pipeline, big oil

& security w/ dogs

too beautiful to

be attack animals

from hurting

our mother

at the same time

north dakota

unleashes its

nat'l guard

-

i glide to

intersection,

birch and thomsen,

soft tap break -

that's when i see

the cat, her long tail,

deflated, slender body,

her goddess face,

smashed -

too wrong

for morning, or

anytime

-

a night hit -

or maybe,

on purpose

-

she was sleek,

the coloring of

louise, the cat

i couldn't keep

so many years

ago

-

i'm on the freeway,

still thinking

about the cat

when i see a

state trooper,

car hiding

below the

40th ave w

viaduct

it slinks out

behind me,

passes and

whips lights,

pulls over

a car with

rez plates

as i pass

the pulled over

driver, a woman,

w/long, black hair

& voluptuous face,

she puffs her cheeks,

and sighs

-

more news:

the local police

are still looking

for natalie m.,

a native woman

who disappeared

a year ago,

journeying north

to see family

marches & rallies

in her honor, in

hopes of finding

her and all the

disappeared

native women

& girls

who are

possibly

probably

trafficked

to the

bakken

oil

fields

that same

broken

earth

shale take

that would feed

the pipeline

the people

are protesting

-

when i get to work,

i do the one thing

i can at this moment

call the county

about the cat

the office worker

i talk to says

road crews

just came off

4 10's but

says she'll

do her best

-

today is

monday

sept 12th

2016

Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience – Lorraine Currelley

As the incoming administration builds its agenda of attack on marginalized people, on freedom of speech, on the earth itself, poetry will continue to be an essential voice of resistance. Poets will speak out in solidarity, united against hatred, systemic oppression, and violence and for justice, beauty, and community.

                

In this spirit, Split This Rock is offering its blog as a Virtual Open Mic. For the rest of this frightening month, January of 2017, we invite you to send us poems of resistance, power, and resilience.

We will post every poem we receive unless it is offensive (containing language that is derogatory toward marginalized groups, that belittles, uses hurtful stereotypes, explicitly condones or implies a call for violence, etc.). After the Virtual Open Mic closes, we hope to print out and mail all of the poems to the White House.

For guidelines on how to submit poems for this call, visit the Call for Poems of Resistance, Power & Resilience blog post. 

***

Rituals for Murdered Dark Sons and Daughters

By Lorraine Currelley 

Some poems are blood draped, bleeding murdered dark sons and daughters.
Dark mothers are born, carrying rituals for their womb’s missing. Tearing at skin,
hair, beating busoms, choking on screams filled with unearthed terror, acknowledging their murdered. Praying for the blessed journeys of dark sons and daughters joining the ancestors. Dark sons and daughters never to marry, pledge their hearts, know love’s tender embrace, warmth and peace. Leaving hungry grandmother arms with no grandbabies to hold, cuddle and tickle. Mourning lives they will never know. Gunshots fall on deaf ears of those not wanting to hear.

Poems cannot breathe on pain filled pages. Nor can they sit complacent when truth is never spoken. Must babies look like your children and grandchildren in order for you to feel? To care? Where are the united outcries to outraged poems cursing unnatural deaths? Dark mother and father bodies and hearts never rest. There is no peaceful sleep or hours when separated from our children. School and work remain more than school and work. Errands are more than errands. Separations are carved nightmares coated with ancient fears.

Mama lined us children up and planted kisses on our faces before we left home. She taught her children to do the same. Mama said, it might be our last time seeing each other, and these are the memories we want to carry. I’m an old woman and honor the sacredness of this ritual. The legacy of centuries of family members gone missing. Life has taught me the truth of her words. People were not created to feed oceans. Bodies were not birthed to fertilize trees. Still, we are vilified for crimes not our own. Our terror convicts deaf ears of those not wanting to hear. Hungrily we forge onward searching earth, land, sea and sky, for pieces of ourselves, mourning lost and celebrating discovery. Some poems are blood draped, bleeding murdered dark sons and daughters.