21 May 2013
06 May 2013
For many who are in a process of 'migration'...and for the time of year.
From Piercy’s collection The Moon Is Always Female.
The perpetual migration
By Marge Piercy
How do we know where we are going?
How do we know where we are headed
till we in fact or hope or hunch
arrive? You can criticize,
the comfortable say, you don’t know
what you want. Ah, but we do.
We have swung in the green verandas
of the jungle trees. We have squatted
on cloud-grey granite hillsides where
every leaf drips. We have crossed
badlands where the sun is sharp as flint.
We have paddled into the tall dark sea
in canoes. We always knew.
Peace, plenty, the gentle wallow
of intimacy, a bit of Saturday night
and not too much Monday morning,
a chance to choose, a chance to grow,
the power to say no and yes, pretties
and dignity, an occasional jolt of truth.
The human brain, wrinkled slug, knows
like a computer, like a violinist, like
a bloodhound, like a frog. We remember
backwards a little and sometimes forwards,
but mostly we think in the ebbing circles
a rock makes on the water.
The salmon hurtling upstream seeks
the taste of the waters of its birth
but the seabird on its four-thousand-mile
trek follows charts mapped on its genes.
The brightness, the angle, the sighting
of the stars shines in the brain luring
till the inner constellation matches the outer.
The stark black rocks, the island beaches
of waveworn pebbles where it will winter
look right to it. Months after it set
forth it says, home at last, and settles.
Even the pigeon beating its short whistling
wings knows the magnetic tug of arrival.
In my spine a tidal clock tilts and drips
and the moon pulls blood from my womb.
Driven as a migrating falcon, I can be blown
off course yet if I turn back it feels
wrong. Navigating by chart and chance
and passion I will know the shape
of the mountains of freedom, I will know.
at May 06, 2013
05 May 2013
Today is not Mexican Independence Day, as many believe (that is 16 Sept)...but the 5th of May in 1862 was a victory over the French exerting dominance and imperialism over the Mexican Army, many of whom were indigenous...a victory in the face of great odds...they won that battle ( La Batalla de Puebla )...but lost the war. However, there are many historians who believe that if the French had not suffered such a defeat they would have been able to aid the Confederacy in securing their ports and changed the course of our own Civil War.
So if you are going to celebrate Cinco de Mayo with Mexican Food, beer and margaritas...remember that we all can win small victories in the face of great odds...and keep on keepin' on...I'll toast to that. And I'll toast to the Mexicans who helped to secure our national unity...remember, divided we fall.
at May 05, 2013
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We get caught up in monikers and labels...I'm much more conservative than most conservatives, much more libertarian than most libertari...
I need a song. I need a song like a river, cool and dark and wet, like a battered old oak; gnarled bark, bitter acorns, a song like a dr...