M [ai]

Do you dream     m [ai]

                 dream       

        I  Dream      m [ai]

                 dream

Do you sin          m [ai]

                   sin

       I   sin            m [ai]

                   sin   

Do you hurt         m [ai]

                  hurt      

       I  hurt           m [ai]  

                  love

Elizabeth Alexander : Praise Song For The Day

alexander

 

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what’s on the other side.

I know there’s something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.

Praise Song for the Day- (Graywolf Press, 2009). Continua a leggere “Elizabeth Alexander : Praise Song For The Day”

In questo corpo

 

Niente poesia in questo corpo.
In questo corpo nessun universo:
muscoli tesi
e carne in questo corpo.
Nessuna rabbia o tenerezza
in questo corpo:
un passo dopo l’altro
negli inverni
in questo corpo
nelle primavere
in questo corpo
testa, cuore, braccia, gambe
legati stretti
in questo corpo.
Questo corpo fa l’amore
quando ama
in questo corpo
e c’è un amore
in questo corpo
ad ogni parola che parla
in questo corpo
che ascolta
chiuso
in questo corpo

Continua a leggere “In questo corpo”

Amami poco

e se poi mi amassi amami poco
amami il tempo di un adesso
lo spazio di un cuscino
un unico gesto: la mano e una ciocca
dietro il lobo di un orecchio
amami con una parola breve -un sì, un no-
nel cerchio aperto di un respiro
senza provviste dentro il frigo e
con il vuoto dei cassetti delle case al mare
amami senza biglietti o cartoline, senza fotografie
come un mercoledì, o un giovedì, come il numero di una morra
un quadro senza firma
amami poco: non più di una stanza
e mentre mi ami lascia aperta la porta

quiereme poco
Continua a leggere “Amami poco”