Healing, Nuturing, poetry, Strength

Stardust and Healing – Poem

 

https://www.flickr.com/x/t/0097009/photos/garlandcannon/4295147009/
Stardust- Valentine of the Universe by Jan

Stardust

 

In my dreams,

I traveled to the stars

through the black darkness,

to the heavens of the infinite,

 

gathering stardust

in outstretched arms,

bits of  future self, which

flowed over my heart.

 

Glowing embers

surrounded a dying organ,

encouraging, nurturing,

restoring love.

 

Warmth growing,

healing the self

bringing me back

to life.

 

 

Maya Angelou, Mexican History, poetry, Poetry Month, poets, Sandra Cisneros, Social Justice, Strength

Poetry on Wednesdays-Political Poetry

Poetry and Politics-JFK quote. alvaradofrazier.com
Poetry and Politics-JFK quote. alvaradofrazier.com

Remember high school English classes?

That was my first introduction to poetry. Old poets. Lot’s of ‘thee’s and thou’s,” and too much Old English stuff.

I was a studious person, more logical than emotional, so many poems went over my head.

That was until I went to college, in the mid ’70’s. It was an eyeopener when I read the profound words of contemporary poets Maya Angelou and Nikki Giovanni, who spoke of racism and the strength of women.

I found only two Chicano/Mexican American poets, both male: Alurista and the political activist, Rudulfo “Corky” Gonzales.

Yo Soy Joaquin, I am Joaquin, gripped me from the beginning.

This bilingual poem, published in 1967, summarized Mexican and Mexican American history, from the exploitation of the natives through colonial times, to the present. The poem served as a nationalist ideology for political activism, using the historical events of the 19th Century social rebel, Joaquin Murrieta.

The poem was groundbreaking, revitalizing, and began a social movement. Since it is several pages long, here’s an excerpt from the middle of the poem:

I am Joaquin. 
I rode with Pancho Villa, 
crude and warm, a tornado at full strength, 
nourished and inspired by the passion and the fire of all his earthy people. 
I am Emiliano Zapata. 
“This land, this earth is OURS.” 
The villages, the mountains, the streams 
belong to Zapatistas. 
Our life or yours is the only trade for soft brown earth and maize. 
All of which is our reward, 
a creed that formed a constitution 
for all who dare live free! 
“This land is ours . . . 
Father, I give it back to you. 
Mexico must be free. . . .” 
I ride with revolutionists 
against myself. 
I am the Rurales, 
coarse and brutal, 
I am the mountian Indian, 
superior over all. 
The thundering hoof beats are my horses. The chattering machine guns 
are death to all of me: 
Yaqui 
Tarahumara 
Chamala 
Zapotec 
Mestizo 
Español. 
I have been the bloody revolution, 
The victor, 
The vanquished. 

 

You can read the entire epic poem here. 

In the 80’s and ’90’s, I fell in love with poems and novels by Sandra Cisneros. My love affair with Ms. Cisneros’ work is well documented on my blog. For me, her poems in “Wicked, Wicked Ways” and “Loose Woman,” spanned the politics of women.

Ms. Cisneros is my ‘she-ro.’  My favorite poem is “You Bring Out the Mexican In Me.”

It’s also fairly long, so I’ll print one of her short poems:

Black Lace Bra Kind of Woman

 

Watchale! She’s a black lace bra

kind of woman, the kind who serves

up suicide with every kamikazi

poured into neon blue of evening

A tease and a twirl. I’ve seen that

two-step girl in action. I’ve gambled bad

odds and sat shotgun as she rambled

her ’59 Pontiac between the blurred

lines dividing sense from senselessness

Ruin your clothes, she will.

Get you home after hours

driving her ’59 seventy five on 35

like there is no tomorrow.

Woman zydeco-ing into her own decade.

Thirty years pleated behind her like

the wail of a San Antonio accordion.

And now the good times are coming. Girl,

I tell you, the good times are here.

From LOOSE WOMAN, 1994 pg. 78

 

Until next week, thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Healing, Hope, Love, poetry, Self Care, Strength, Stress

My Heart Rises-Poem

heartbreak, pain, courage
Pain-Kahlil Gibran alvaradofrazier.com

 

It’s been many days since I’ve wanted to work on my manuscripts. Or do much.

One of the side effects of this lull is using the bits and pieces that tumble out of the heart.

Examine them for meaning. Are they true, fears, or lies?

Sometimes the words are like puzzle pieces to keep in your journal for another time.

Sometimes they are emotions, ready to be strung together into a garland of words that resonates with someone.

This time, the feelings are a poem. I’m trying to capture the sunrise.

 

My Heart Rises

My heart sinks

takes me

down.

 

Hold the heart

before it

drops

 

into tangled love

and jealousy,

pain

 

My heart heavy

with momentary

confusion.

 

A ripple above

reminds of

hope.

 

My heart floats

feels, waits

quietly.

 

Climbs, grabs hold,

touches longing,

remembers

 

this is when

you chose

you

 

feel the flutter,

my heart

rises

 

Hands holding the sunrise-gettyimages.com
Hands holding the sunrise-gettyimages.com
Encouragement, Faith, Family, Strength, Stress

When Stress Gets To You

Depression, weariness, exhaustion
Gettyimages.com

If I could choose 10 days to give back to time, I’d choose the last ten.

Between my usual six month cancer checkup (to see if I’m still in remission or not),  a relationship ending, and my brother in critical care and suffering from ICU Delirium, the stresses of my life cut through any desire to do much, including writing more than a few words.

What do you do when life rides so heavy on you that you don’t want to get out of bed?

I jotted down bits and pieces of words in my bedside journal. Sometimes it was a curse word, other days I don’t remember what I wrote until I looked back.

This is what my journal said one day:

I think we’re on the brink of change, like a jeep tottering over a cliff in an action movie. Will it fall or won’t it. Will we be saved or crash and burn? I pray and pray. I show up in life. I try to write, read, concentrate, but all I want to do is cry. 

On that day I prayed continuously for my brother to progress. And then I rested and cried.

Another day my journal reminded me to take time out, be grateful, meditate, pray, take it easy. And I tried to do that.

I’m well acquainted with the valleys of life, but for the last few days it’s been particularly hard. Perhaps, it’s because I feel I’ve been hit on three sides; too many whammies at once.

It’s getting the gumption, the ganas as we say in Spanish, to move forward that eluded me.

But, I know things will get better, and I thank God I am still in remission and my brother is slowing progressing. It really is one hour at a time, then one day at a time, for a while.

Today, while returning home from the hospital, I opened my Bible scriptures app (yes, there’s an app for that):

Come to me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest…-Matthew 11:28

I smiled at that. And then I put in my earbuds and listened to meditation music on my cell phone, while my sister drove us home. Among the soothing music a gentle voice said:

Put away the ghosts of the past, the worry about the future, and stay in the here and now. Stay in the present moment. Surrender.

Again, I felt comforted. I am encouraged.

These small acts have made a big difference. In my heart, I feel the ganas returning.

Thank you for listening.