Arlene BialaYa'aburnee (Arabic): "You bury me." It's a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before another person, because of how difficult it would be to live without them. no harana
no serenade no let me call you sweetheart no dahil sa yo no courting you no guitar strum of my nervous fingers no new moon chance no smiling neighbors gathering near no wavering voice in the first verse no you standing at the window laughing softly, shaking your head whispering to your sister beside you how you were hoping it would be me no stopping now, i've already started no way, it's too late, your smile locks me in no first kiss at the barrio fiesta after your parents leave for home no telling you that i love you like no other no you teasing i am so old fashioned living the ancient ways of love songs no you answering my call of your name after the winds die, after the waters recede no finding a note. no finding your body. no you standing in deep mud, shaking no you suddenly running toward me no you whispering to me how you always pray that you will die before i die, because the suffering would be unbearable. no. i refuse to leave my home. i want to stay here by the sea listen to you whisper, bury me you bury me. Originally published in Red Wheelbarrow, December 2013. |
So we travel on earth seeking the terrain of Poetry, walking through wilderness and empty landscape or visiting those ancient sites like Dholavira in far-western Gujarat, or Mykenai in the Greek Peloponnese, or the Arawak campsite on eastern Carriacou in the Grenadine Windward Isles, pursuing that authenticity of experience in a form of antique material reality...
These are places, strange and vague situations where death is manifold and thoroughly extant to the careful eye. There are women’s bangles made of shell to be picked up from the saline dust or small copper beads and thin chert blades, or tiny obsidian arrow-heads that can be unhidden and disclosed beneath those bloody grey walls about the Lion Gate, or beautiful indented potsherds and ceramic fragments at the waterline where the Atlantic rolls out its long blue visceral waves...
Kevin McGrath 🐚Yoga of Poetry
“Dare to live the life you have dreamed."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
What began as a series of literary salons and writing workshops is now a worldwide circle of literary & fine artists who believe that words, art, and music act as a transcendent bridge, and allow us to create the lives we have imagined. Poets and Dreamers Literary Circle and the Poets and Dreamers Literary & Fine Arts Journal exist as opportunities for authors and artists to actualize themselves through collaboration and the circulation of literary and fine arts.
"Remember...the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you."
~ Rumi
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