No Words

sometimes there are no words
or is it too many
the flood of anguish
the pain that goes beyond
anything that could possibly
be captured in the boxes of
words we hold in our minds

for me there is no depth
to the word peace - it is
white doves and olive branches
nothing so strong as to bring
a revolution that somehow holds
justice in its sweeping arms
peace is long flowing skirts
and flowery meadows, it is
Kum bay Yah and hand holding
circles - smiles hugs and tears not
food clothing dignity, not freedom
not healthcare or security

and speaking of security we need
to revolutionize that meaning too -
no border patrols and airport checks
but guaranteed food, shelter and
medicine - the security that comes
with equality
and needs no guns or night
vision binoculars wire
tapping our private unjust lives

Base Ten

Here is another reflection - I have been trying to write in verse lately (as you can see it is only moderately successful). This is a little late in being posted as I have been without internet.

Base 10

Because most of us are born
with 5 fingers on each of 2
hands
And some of us die with the
same
We measure things in 1s, 10s, 100s
and 1000s

For the rich and famous of the
US of A, 1 can keep us riveted to
24 hour news coverage for days

For inner city poor it takes
100s to draw even a
20 second news blurb

This morning on the radio
The woman dragged out
One T-h-o-u-s-a-n-d
Palestinians killed
Finally, it was news worthy
Finally it was a crisis

Imagine if we were born
with only 4 fingers on each
hand
Imagine if the mathematicians
hadn't counted their thumbs.
It would have taken 488 fewer
deaths to catch our attention.
Although maybe then, the standards
would be shifted again.

We were THOUSANDS

Recently I went to a huge protest in Washington DC about the violence happening in the Gaza Strip. This was my reflection:

I got caught up in
the joy on young girls
faces and for a moment
their smiles
made me feel hope
marching some how together
I did not feel alone

We
We were marching
and there was hope in
our numbers fierce
independence in our chants
an independence not based
in individual desire
but in a demand
for change and I wonder
if any of my comrads
feel the same disappointment
now looking at the news
and seeing nothing.

We were thousands
Thousands
And we were stopping
traffic and screaming words
We carried our signs in the cold
pouring rain
and yet I know
no one will see us
no one will hear us

We were thousands
of invisible souls marching
through the capitol
of the most powerful of nations

And part of me wonders
if this
is just a small part
of what it feels like
to be
Palestinian.

Thoughts and Laughs from the Past

I recently finished a masters degree from an international service sort of school. As a part of the finishing up process we were given our admissions essays back. I read mine over with great trepidation, fearing the arrogance and idealism of my youth (all of four years ago:)) Instead I found the seeds of my then eminent change in how I saw the world. I won't burden you all with the whole thing, but just the inspiring and funny parts. Enjoy!

For almost as long as I can remember I have wanted to save the world. My earliest memories are of hearing of people in pain and distress and picturing myself sweeping in to rescues them. It doesn't take one long to realize that this was a selfish and vain goal, a goal entirely based on a desire for glory and praise. As I have grown, the nature of my desire for international service has changed dramatically I learned that "saving the world" is not as easy as it sounds, and that it is more likely to happen in tiny increments that are hardly visible, rather than one sweeping action by a sole woman on a mission. I also learned that though there are many Mother Teresas in this world, only one of them has ever been given proper recognition.

....When I arrived in Argentina I was naive thinking that my one year of college Spanish would prepare me to be fully immersed in a country where they speak Castellano. It took me all of four seconds in the airport to figure out I was wrong. Then the house dog biting my my first night in my English-less host home taught me that communication is in no way limited to words. Three months later I discovered that you could wear the same outfit for three days in a row. Not only was there no snickering, but also, life continued much the same as it had when I wore a new outfit every day, only less laundry and less decision making.....

Just a few reflections. I would say there was still some arrogance, still some assumptions about helping and helplessness - I will save that for the next post.

Guest Blog from Lu

So my housemate, Lu, sent me and several other people this email yesterday. I asked her if I could paste it in here as a guest blog post and she said yes. I love it for its frankness and the revelations - enjoy.....

I'm only writing about this because if I could have coffee with any of you, I would tell you about it in person. But by the time I see you again, life will have gone on and there will be other news to share, so I just didn't want to go without sharing something that is deeply shaking me today.

I'm particularly outraged right now because I spent all day yesterday at a Virginia jail meeting with detained immigrants, many of whom were traumatized women who came to me in tears desperately asking me to find out what had happened to their families. Many of these women were arrested while in bed with their husbands one night (one of them told me they handcuffed her naked, didn't even give her enough time to dress). Then they separate the parents from their children (who are often U.S. citizens, so they don't get deported) and finally, they send each parent to a jail corresponding to their gender. They are not told where the other spouse was sent, when they will be deported, or what happened to their children. Needless to say, it is difficult to keep your composure when you are listening to a woman telling you this in the hopes that you can help her, when all you want to do is break down with her and cry because your country has learned nothing from all the lessons it tried to teach you in high school about what happened during WWII in the U.S. and abroad, and so many other examples of horrible inhumane behavior that we claim is unacceptable and we use to chastise other cultures. Shame on the U.S. gov for what it is doing. And the part that hurts me the most is how I see it affecting American society, sending a message to people that it is ok to see the "other" as inferior and unworthy of compassion or at least respect. It doesn't help that I just finished reading the book Beloved about the incomprehensible carnage that results when we violate the sacred bonds between human beings, such as mother and child.

Anyway, and then I see something in the news, and I just can't handle it. It is one thing for Americans to treat presidential elections like they're sport events - which lowers the integrity of the process bad enough - but this. How can we ever think that we can solve a problem of terrorism stemming from a place so far away, when we are doing this to each other right here at home. This is deeply disturbing to me.

"A women's club in San Bernardino County sent out a recent newsletter with a photo of Barack Obama surrounded by fried chicken, watermelon and ribs, sparking widespread outrage and rebuke from GOP leaders and Democrats."

What struck me about the article was a comment by a member of the organization which speaks volumes about what I feel lies at the heart of the problems I encountered at the jail yesterday.

"If I was racist, I would have looked at it through racist eyes," she said. "I am not racist, which is why it probably didn't register . . . None of us are racists"

I know you are all living your lives in different parts of the country, working in different professions and interacting with different people. But, please, I beg you, don't fail to engage in dialog about these issues when the opportunity arises. It is so important. I know it is difficult for us to talk about these kinds of moral challenges facing our society. But there are people who are being deprived of their liberty, who don't know if their lives will ever bring them back to their most beloved and whose voices cannot be heard.

A woman at the jail yesterday said to Brooke (another volunteer like me), "you come here and give us hope, but what can you really do for us?" Brooke responded "We will tell others. We will tell your story so other people know."

Lu