The Economy of Days
To want, to have, to do‑‑
the verbs I live
in perpetual unrest.
How difficult to be‑‑
to embrace the homely
details of my days
to open my heart
to the flow
of this amphibious life,
to trust in the motion toward
as a fish trusts
the river at its gills,
to trust in this journey,
to swim,
to be still.
… Michael S. Glaser
*I have been given permission to post this poem.
Weather
“In this kind of weather
even the birds go hungry.”
He was talking of the wind.
For days it had not let up.
The harbor was a litter of boats
lost from their moorings
The garden, a confusion
of tree limbs.
She was looking for symmetry,
something to explain the ache
of weather she felt in her joints
as she listened for bird songs
or the sounds of vegetables
rising from the earth,
She was thinking about the clarity
of the skin on an eggplant and
looking out the window at something
he could not see when he put his hand
on her shoulder and said,
“It’ll stop just as suddenly as it blew in.”
She wanted to say, “fuck you”
but he would have misunderstood
and having thought it, having recognized
her voice the moment she heard it in her ears
she did not need to say it
and she opened the front door instead
and flew boldly into the wind.
…Michael S. Glaser
Dogwood
And then
suddenly
the dogwood
no longer in bud or unfolding bloom
but full-snow-white, dotting the woods,
lining the streets as if spring-green
and soft rain were not enough, as if
we need this extra moment of pure white
to remind us Yes & Again
to remember the light.
Even if there were only this
this sharp intake of breath
each spring, this gasp of sudden awe,
this glimpse of grace,
this astonishing reminder
of beauty’s frail and fragile place
in the still small space of our lives,
even if there were only this,
surely, it would be enough.
… . Michael S. Glaser
*Published with permission of the poet.
My Mother
At the dry land without food and water
When life become rough and hope is futile
When I felt that I am dying for ever
You fly to save my life as fast as the shuttle.
The struggle you suffered during my birth
I got everything form you, amazing mother
Even though death is every one’s faith,
I want you to live with me mom forever.
Your beautiful smile as the morning sundew
You are my backbone mom the land of happiness.
I heard your dream voice saying, ”I love you”.
I can’t find enough words to describe your greatness.
Your taste as sweet as the best flavor,
Nothing will separate as, I will say never.
Sihuatl
Tlatoli, tlen mo nenemilia ipan to tenshipal
Ti kamatics campa ne kuatinijic tlayeyekapa miyotia
Huan tlaejekapa tlamasi kama ki totomosa no tonal
Ni sasilia to teko tlen ki ajamatij no lalamikilis
Ti tlachamailtia uan yolik tihuika monemilis
Iteki, uan axkema tlamij kuasasi ken kuatitlanchichi
Xi texmaka ne tlaltipaktli tlen ne temiktlij tlapalij
Totonik uan sesek tlatlapayo
Sahuantli tlen ne tonati tlen pano ipanej kuauitl
Tlen ti tlachilia totome tlen pano ipan ne ajko
Nemilistli yeyekapa tlen ki ajaxilia no tonal
Ojtli tlen tejme tlen kiuika atl
Ne kuatitla koneme panotinemi ipan tlakayaual tlatomoni
Chikauak ipan to yolo
Tlakuapiltili tlamasij se tlakatl ipiseltisi
Ajkomolitl tlen kixikoua tlamalini achi tetik
Sahuantli tlen messtli
Sihuayo tlamantiketl tlen tlapasulmana uan texmaka tonenlis
Sihuatl tlen uesi ika ne meestli
Majtli tlen tshiljuia, majtli tlen tlaikxitia, majtli tlen tlapopoua
Tlatoli tlamajtsi tlen kixikoa
Lalamikilistli kichiua lalamikilistli kaajokui
Tlaekauia kampa mo pasoloua
Sihuayo ueyi uan tetik
Tlayoua tlen tlapetlani
Itlakoya motlauelneki sihuatl mohuiuiita
Ki masolohua ika estli masolua ajkopa
Majtli tlen tech alaxohua achi kimati uan texmaka pakilistli
Uan tech manauia
Tetla chiuiketl tlen mochichiua
Totiosi tlen miktojka
Tetlakakuiliketl tonana, kitlastla, tekokoliketl
Tlanauatiketl, tlatekipanoketl mamatli, tlaneltoka
Tlayoua uan tonaya
Nama uan nochipa sihuatl
From Conjuro (Mammoth Publications, 2012)
*This poem is the Nahuatl version of Mujer, Mujer that Xanath Caraza wrote for International Women’s Day around 2010. Nahuatl is a Mexican indigenous language.
Mujer
Word that dissolves between lips
Enchantment from the forest with the most exquisite aromas
Soft wind that touches the soul
Whispering from gods that charms my reason
Endless fertility, carrier of life
Never-ending strength, roar of the lion
Exotic silk from the land of my dreams
Colors warm, cold, combined
Ray of the sun that traverses the tree
Bird that poses on the top of the willow tree
Inaudible steps that reach my soul
Path of stones that leads to the river
Flight of duendes crossing the night
Thunder of strength that splits hearts
Response that calms the loneliest man
Shoulders that bear the heaviest loads
Ray of the moon
Fertile womb that devours and brings life
Leaf that falls in autumn
Hands that comb, hands that bake, hands that clean
Silent voice that tolerates
Creative thought, deviant thought, stored thought
Shadow of the brothel
Protruding stomach, strong
Stormy night
Aggressive hips, sex that hypnotizes
Bloody fist, raised fist
Hand of the most expert caress
Giver of pleasure
Being who fights to be listened to
Warrior witch
Goddess, mortal
Lover, mother; friend, enemy
Owner, slave
Fear, faith; night and day
Today and always, mujer
Yanga
For Louis Reyes Rivera
By Xánath Caraza
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga
Today, your spirit I invoke
Here, in this place
This, this is my poem for Yanga
Mandinga, malanga, bamba
Rumba, mambo, samba.
Words having arrived from Africa
This, this is my answer for Yanga
Candomble, mocambo, mambo
Candomble, mocambo, mambo
Free man of Veracruz
In 1570
You arrived at the Port of Veracruz
In chains as many
You escaped slavery
Palenque, rumba, samba
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga
Unconquerable spirit
Noble man from Africa
In 1609
You fought for freedom
At your doors, they arrived and
They couldn’t come in
Mandinga, malanga, bamba
Palenque, rumba, samba
Palenque, rumba, samba
Pride, rhythm and freedom
By 1630
San Lorenzo de los negros
Was established
Today, the town of Yanga
Candomble, mocambo, mambo
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga
Today, your spirit I invoke
Here, in this place
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga
Palenque, rumba, samba
Mandinga, malanga, bamba
Candomble, mocambo, mambo
Condomble, mocambo, mambo
Mandinga, malanga, bamba
Palenque, rumba, samba
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga
From Conjuro (Mammoth Publications, 2012)
*Professor Caraza has given permission for the publication of this poem on Ensemble.
Yanga
Para Louis Reyes Rivera
By Xánath Caraza
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga,
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga,
Hoy, tu espíritu invoco
Aquí, en este lugar.
Este, este es mi poema para Yanga,
Mandinga, malanga, bamba.
Rumba, mambo, samba,
Palabras llegadas de África.
Esta, esta es mi respuesta para Yanga,
Candomble, mocambo, mambo,
Candomble, mocambo, mambo,
Hombre libre veracruzano.
En 1570
Llegaste al puerto de Veracruz,
Encadenado como muchos,
Escapaste de la esclavitud.
Palenque, rumba, samba,
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga,
Espíritu indomable,
Noble hombre de África.
En 1609
Luchaste por la libertad,
Hasta tus puertas llegaron y
No pudieron entrar.
Mandinga, malanga, bamba,
Palenque, rumba, samba,
Palenque, rumba, samba,
Orgullo, ritmo y libertad.
Para 1630
San Lorenzo de los Negros
Se estableció.
Hoy, el pueblo de Yanga.
Candomble, mocambo, mambo,
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga,
Hoy, tu espíritu invoco
Aquí, en este lugar.
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga,
Palenque, rumba, samba,
Mandinga, malanga, bamba,
Candomble, mocambo, mambo.
Candomble, mocambo, mambo,
Mandinga, malanga, bamba,
Palenque, rumba, samba,
Yanga, Yanga, Yanga.
From Conjuro (Mammoth Publications, 2012)
* Professor Xanath Caraza is a teacher at the University of Missouri Kansas City in the Foreign Languages and Literatures Department. Prof. Caraza writes her poetry in 3 different languages: Spanish, English and Nahuatl. She has given permission for me to post this specific poem on Ensemble.
Taste
To travel through this maze is not what I wished for
The Light that guides my body will not show me the answer that I long for
Granted, I chose this path of knowledge
But how was I to know that this knowledge would sink its poison fangs into my brain
It’s toxic liquid running through my thoughts
Each one sicker and worst than those before it
The taste so foul
As the waste that empty for my bowels
If God was looking down, I know he cracked a smile
Such foolishness for such a simple-minded creature
The connection that was held by the strongest of steel
Has now corroded leaving it gray to become the darkest of reds
The lifeline now tainted with the foulest of blood
Always hanging over me as a reminder for my stupidity
The light that should have save me
Now blinds me
How could I have known that the darkness was my ally?
How could I have known the light would only pull me away?
How could I have known?
That something that taste of honey and syrup
Could be so damn Venomous
Tygee J. Shakir
