Good Afternoon, my name is Dorothy Shubow Nelson.
I value the writing of American Indian women poets, especially Linda Hogan and Leslie Marmon Silko. There is so much to learn from the ways of life that that are embodied in their stories, poetry and recognitions. Below are excerpts from Hogan’s poem “Trail of Tears: Our Removal.” U.S. President Andrew Jackson had authorized the Indian Removal Act of 1830 to make way for white settlers and slavery in the southeast. A series of forced migrations of five Indian Nations took place resulting in at least 4000 deaths during the long trek to Oklahoma. By 1837 the Jackson Administration had removed tens of thousands of American Indians from their lands.
Trail of Tears: Our Removal (excerpts)
by Linda Hogan
With lines unseen the land was broken.
When surveyors came, we knew
what the prophet had said was true,
this land with unseen lines would be taken.
So, you who live there now,
don’t forget to love it, thank it
the place that was once our forest,
our ponds, our mosses,
the swamplands with birds and more lowly creatures…
So have compassion for that land at least…
We were once whole,
but now our bodies and minds remain
the measured geography.
I would like to think that my poem “Taos Mountain,” which I will read today, emerged from a land centered consciousness. Here is one of my poems about land and the movement of migrants from Mexico to the U.S.
The Return
by Dorothy Shubow Nelson
Ruthless succulents sparse acres of palms oh so delicate
ironwoods doves flapping under the eaves like flags
I know this is America because U.S. flags fly over gated
adobe condos and teachers argue about English only
because Mexicans die trekking in this desert for work –
as armed minutemen from 50 states stalk the border
desecrate indigenous lands with ATV’s
and high speed chases over fragile terrain
O’odham people offer water and food
to the migrants hospitals what ever needs
others leave gallons of water at remote stations
for those making their claims coming home
Mahmoud Darwish, one of the greatest contemporary Arab poets, was revered throughout the world. Born in 1941 his family fled in 1948 when Israeli forces attacked his village. He published over thirty volumes of poetry and eight books of prose and was regarded as Palestine’s Poet Laureate. Children in Palestine recite his poetry. He died in 2008.
A Lover from Palestine (excerpts)
by Mahmoud Darwish
Shelter me in the warmth
of your gaze
take me a panel of almond
wood, in the cottage of
sorrows.
take me, a verse from the
book of my tragedy,
take me, a plaything or a
stone from the house,
so that our next
generation may recall
the path of return to our
home.
Truth
Inspired by Mahmoud Darwish
Dorothy Shubow Nelson
you are my half sister
we have the same father
we have been
separated too long
I can stay in this city no more
tall buildings hide your eyes, the sand in your hair
your wrinkled face
machines and fighter planes smother your cries and
the cries of little birds
take me to your children
(was it a hard birth)
show me the rose bush near your well
the fruit of your trees, almonds
lemons, figs, take me to the graves
walls confine us, keep us estranged
did you see the half moon low in the sky
I ran to the highway to find the moon
do you have enough water
can I reach you with this page
will this offering call forth water from the dry spring
call forth absent voices whose lips
will kiss stones under stones
here the rain keeps coming, pushing against
the cracks in the frame of my wooden house
there is nothing to do about this rain
Vincent Ferrini, the son of Italian Immigrants, was born in 1913. He became the first Poet Laureate of Gloucester, publishing forty plus books of poetry. His poems are imbued with devotion and concern for the well-being of the community and for human kind as a whole in the face of political opportunism and manipulation. He spoke out often at City Council Meetings in Gloucester not unlike Socrates challenging the values and actions of the so-called higher-ups in government. He died in 2007.
From The Infinite People
By Vincent Ferrini
VI
In the unlit mornings
I see
the bus bound
for eternity
with its passengers
perpetual
strangers
wake from your twilight sleep
and in your waking
and growth in the struggle
for bread
you will hear the
nusic of the spirit
and you will
know
one
another