poetry

“Actually, Buju Banton* used to be a rapist, I believe”

The hippy said to us, pouring the mixture through the strainer.

Good reggae vibrations floated toward me as I pondered,

“What does it mean to have once been a rapist?

Is it something you can shed like a torn coat, or a snake skin, a piece of baggage you can just set down?

An old Nazi uniform you can just take off, “he used to gas Jews but he’s cool now.”

Bathed in the blood of Jesus or the word of Jah,

Saved

Redeemed

Born Anew

Hallelujah!

How convenient for you, to move through these rigid identities.

I too used to be.

I used to be a victim but I finally managed to shrug off that heavy bloodstained dress, though no white man washed me clean.

Now I wear a survivor badge, heavy like iron over my heart.

I used to be

I used to be free

You took that away from me.

Marine runs away to Mexico

Maria condemned, unbelieved, gets a shallow grave.

She was 20, like me.

I open my mouth to ask the guys

What does it mean to “used to be a Rapist”?

And why don’t the raped get that luxury?

of used to be

But they are already talking about something else

Seeing Joey post her poetry here encouraged me to go ahead and post some of mine. These are the two newest pieces I just finished this week. Lately I've been in an non-stop poetry writing mood but normally its all about love and nothing feminist-y. So these are both my first feminist type poem since I was about 14 years old.

Dream lady, My Visionary:

You’re a dream lady,
My Visionary
Visionary heart
Visionary love
Visionary soul
Oh lady, Your amazing
Standing up for what you believe
Raising that fist in the air
And fighting for what is right
Right from wrong
You know the truth
The truth I seek
The truth we seek
Human rights
And equality for all
What is right
We shall fight
Tell we fall
We will stand together
And raise that fist in the air
Until we get equality
The equality we need
The equality we deserve
We are all the same
So what’s the big deal
If we are of a different race
Or sex
Or we like the same sex
All that should matter
Is that we all have a heart
A heart that can break
From the pain
That can be caused
From the hate that one has
Because someone is different
But if we just tolerate
Then no acceptance can happen
For tolerance is just a form of the hate
That is already going on
So lets accept everyone as a person
A heart and soul
And learn to love
And live
And let equality be true

I've been meaning to post some of my poetry here. I don't exactly have any poems that deal directly with feminist issues, but I do have quite a few that deal with my struggle to work through the abuse I've suffered, and I suppose those are relevant to the AGA.

The first one (though not one of my faves) is a good metaphor of the way my past makes me feel at times. The second one is an imaginary conversation with an abuser that was sparked by a therapy session.

1. Haunted House
Walk on into this splendid mansion,
barefoot on plush carpets
in spacious rooms,
and rest on silken sheets.

This is 'Wild Grapes', by Robert Frost. This poem was the topic of my final paper. I just wanted to share it with you guys to see if anybody else feels the feminist twang of its tone.

What tree may not the fig be gathered from?
The grape may not be gathered from the birch?
It's all you know the grape, or know the birch.
As a girl gathered from the birch myself
Equally with my weight in grapes, one autumn,
I ought to know what tree the grape is fruit of.
I was born, I suppose, like anyone,
And grew to be a little boyish girl
My brother could not always leave at home.
But that beginning was wiped out in fear