Affirm Life!
Suheir Hammad's words ring in my ears...
I've resolved to write the inaugural entry of this weblog.
It's the middle of the night, I'm quite sick and quite alone here in the apartment,
breaking open one of the pomegranates I carried from home on the plane
I feel moved to begin.
This is the first step in a process of recovery.
I apologize for the lack of poetry in this, and I hope that statement comes across as the sincere admission it is, and not "false modesty" as a teacher of mine commented on a paper I wrote in the spring. Normally I wouldn't mind the suggestion of dishonesty; under other circumstances, it might've been an accurate accusation.
To lie is to deny ourselves or others the truth. Our lives are tapestries colored by strings of such denials, bitter as they are, but to invoke the cloak of modesty and don it as one's own when this is not the case, occurs to me as something particularly transgressive.
I didn't realize that I was still stewing over that accusation.
I haven't written much for myself lately, and my hope is that a place like this might help me to become more honest.
What does it mean to Affirm Life?
Suheir Hammad is a slam poet, a woman, an American, a Palestinian.
Our brothers and sisters are dying tonight in Palestine.
I've been beyond the pale of the newsmedia for a few days, per my lack of internet and self-imposed quarantine, so I'm not aware of the latest count, but I see death
lingering just outside the door, can
hear the mothers' screams, can
smell the burned flesh and
taste the tears on my own tongue.
I dreamed I was in Gaza last night.
Part of me wanted to stay there, and part of me was relieved to be awakened by my sore, coughing throat, sheets drenched with fever-borne sweat.
Words can condemn, words can appraise, dignify, or destroy
Has any people been more caught between these divergent uses?
If we have nothing else to give, we owe them the power and grace of words,
and the space for them to make use of that power and grace
*http://lamentations-gaza.blogspot.com [my friend Tala's blog]*
I have so many words to write
What may appear to be laziness
may really be a fear of the responsibilities that come with words
I have an Incomplete to finish tomorrow, and depending on that outcome, I may or may not have to write an appeal to my dismissal from American University
A homeless man was killed on Christmas Eve here in the District
I'm going to write an article for the Eagle, and talk about the Hate Crimes Against the Homeless bill before Congress
I met Azar Nafisi when she came to the Sackler Gallery the week before Christmas to see the "Garden and Cosmos" exhibit where I was working. I recognized her as I handed her an audioguide, and told her her essay "The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of" from the anthology "My Sister Guard Your Veil, My Brother Guard Your Eyes" was one of the most wonderful things I'd read all year. I told her how I shared parts of it with my friend who works in the Afghan department at Voice of America. He said it launched him into hours of discussion about the 'republic of the imagination' with the older gentlemen with whom he produces a Dari-language poetry program. She gave me her card, and told me to write her to continue the conversation.
I want this blog to be that conversation. I'm tired, and hesitant, and feel strangely as though I'm learning how to use words for the first time, like a baby taking its first steps, but I'm breathing, and walking, and I'm writing this to you as an invitation. I know I haven't yet answered my own question, but what does it mean to you to Affirm Life?
