To me, poetry is somebody standing up, so to speak, and saying, with as little concealment as possible, what it is for him or her to be on earth at this moment. – Galway Kinnell
Poetry meets us where we are without expecting us to move on before we are ready. – Lisa Rosman
What are poets for, in such an age?/What is the use of poetry?/The state of the world calls out for poetry to save it. – From “Poetry as Insurgent Art [I am signaling you through the flames]” by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
We closed national poetry month with a night set aside for self-advocacy. There exists an antiquated tradition in poetry to stay out of politics but most poets and the poets on the inside understand poetry as an essential tool for political discourse. In the pieces below, you’ll read the perspectives of those on the inside on the personal, the political, and how the two cross over in their experience at CRCF.
MY MOM’S DESTINY
I ran most of the way.
Checking the mail, my job every day.
I don’t really know my mom.
All I’m sure about
when she’s around my papa might shout.
Meeme is never calmed down
but when I dream of mom she wears a crown.
She the queen of my life
and I love her from the stars to the ground.
She carried me in her belly (but that was pretty much it)
showed me how to make PB + Jelly (even though I usually wore it.)
She never really stayed for too long.
It usually always seemed like there was something wrong.
My sisters always with her then, less and less.
I started to notice she didn’t look her best.
Mommy, why is your hand always bruised and blue?
I hadn’t seen her in over a month when I saw the news.
Papa tried to cover it up with a corny song.
When I watched it all along.
What’s heroin Meeme? And why did mom sweep it?
Her answer was NOTHING through teeth she grit.
Mommy was sick and needs to get well,
not really her body but her judgment went to hell.
She’s gone to time out for two years or so.
She might stay for five but who really knows?
My mommy still loves me, rain, shine, or snow?
I draw her pictures and write at least once a week.
I even sent her my report card because my grades are on FLEEK.
Our relationship now is better than ever
EVERY DAY I GET MY MOM’S LETTER.
HOW TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM THE HEROIN EPIDEMIC Continue reading