#108: A moment of silence
Photograph by Nan Goldin
A Moment of Silence by Emmanuel Ortiz
Before I start this poem,
I’d like to ask you to join me
In a moment of silence
In honor of those who died in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon last September 11th.
I would also like to ask you
To offer up a moment of silence
For all of those who have been harassed, imprisoned,
disappeared, tortured, raped, or killed in retaliation for those strikes
For the victims in both Afghanistan and the U.S.
And if I could just add one more thing…
A full day of silence
For the tens of thousands of Palestinians who have died at the hands of U.S.-backed Israeli forces over decades of occupation.
Six months of silence for the million and-a-half Iraqi people, mostly children, who have died of malnourishment or starvation as a result of an 11-year U.S. embargo against the country.
Before I begin this poem,
Two months of silence for the Blacks under Apartheid in South Africa,
Where homeland security made them aliens in their own country.
Nine months of silence for the dead in Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Where death rained down and peeled back every layer of
concrete, steel, earth and skin
And the survivors went on as if alive.
A year of silence for the millions of dead in Vietnam – a people, not a war – for those who know a thing or two about the scent of burning fuel, their relatives’ bones buried in it, their babies born of it.
A year of silence for the dead in Cambodia and Laos, victims of a secret war … ssssshhhhhhh…
Say nothing
we don’t want them to learn that they are dead.
Two months of silence for the decades of dead in Colombia,
Whose names, like the corpses they once represented,
have piled up and slipped off our tongues.
Before I begin this poem.
An hour of silence for El Salvador …
An afternoon of silence for Nicaragua …
Two days of silence for the Guatemaltecos …
None of whom ever knew a moment of peace in their living years.
45 seconds of silence for the 45 dead at Acteal, Chiapas
25 years of silence for the hundred million Africans who found their graves far deeper in the ocean than any building could poke into the sky.
There will be no DNA testing or dental records to identify their remains.
And for those who were strung and swung from the heights of sycamore trees in the south, the north, the east, and the west…
100 years of silence…
For the hundreds of millions of Indigenous peoples from this half of right here,
Whose land and lives were stolen,
In postcard-perfect plots like Pine Ridge, Wounded Knee, Sand Creek, Fallen Timbers, or the Trail of Tears.
Names now reduced to innocuous magnetic poetry on the refrigerator of our consciousness …
So you want a moment of silence?
And we are all left speechless
Our tongues snatched from our mouths
Our eyes stapled shut
A moment of silence
And the poets have all been laid to rest
The drums disintegrating into dust.
Before I begin this poem,
You want a moment of silence
You mourn now as if the world will never be the same
And the rest of us hope to hell it won’t be.
Not like it always has been.
Because this is not a 9/11 poem.
This is a 9/10 poem,
It is a 9/9 poem,
A 9/8 poem,
A 9/7 poem
This is a 1492 poem.
This is a poem about what causes poems like this to be written.
And if this is a 9/11 poem, then:
This is a September 11th poem for Chile, 1971.
This is a September 12th poem for Steven Biko in South Africa, 1977.
This is a September 13th poem for the brothers at Attica Prison, New York, 1971.
This is a September 14th poem for Somalia, 1992.
This is a poem for every date that falls to the ground in ashes
This is a poem for the 110 stories that were never told
The 110 stories that history chose not to write in textbooks
The 110 stories that CNN, BBC, The New York Times, and Newsweek ignored.
This is a poem for interrupting this program.
And still you want a moment of silence for your dead?
We could give you lifetimes of empty:
The unmarked graves
The lost languages
The uprooted trees and histories
The dead stares on the faces of nameless children
Before I start this poem we could be silent forever
Or just long enough to hunger,
For the dust to bury us
And you would still ask us
For more of our silence.
If you want a moment of silence
Then stop the oil pumps
Turn off the engines and the televisions
Sink the cruise ships
Crash the stock markets
Unplug the marquee lights,
Delete the instant messages,
Derail the trains, the light rail transit.
If you want a moment of silence, put a brick through the window of Taco Bell,
And pay the workers for wages lost.
Tear down the liquor stores,
The townhouses, the White Houses, the jailhouses, the
Penthouses and the Playboys.
If you want a moment of silence,
Then take it
On Super Bowl Sunday,
The Fourth of July
During Dayton’s 13 hour sale
Or the next time your white guilt fills the room where my beautiful people have gathered.
You want a moment of silence
Then take it NOW,
Before this poem begins.
Here, in the echo of my voice,
In the pause between goosesteps of the second hand,
In the space between bodies in embrace,
Here is your silence,
Take it.
But take it all…
Don’t cut in line.
Let your silence begin at the beginning of crime.
But we,
Tonight we will keep right on singing
For our dead.
Links of the Week:
Of Life and Death: Anna Molka Ahmed’s Paintings
Mental Floss' Amazing Fact Generator (my favorite so far: The dot over your lowercase “i” is called a tittle.)
What Does “Feeling Good” Look Like Right Now?
Register: Pictoplasma
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A Record Store designed for Mice, featuring albums by Mouse Davis, Destiny’s Cheese & Dolly Parsley Don't forget to De-stress the COVID stress!
Instagram Finds:
New on the Website:
On World Photography Day (19th August), I invited 18 photographers to share a photograph that depicts Hope. Check out the full collection Glimpses of Hope, with the photographers' backstories here.
Portraits of Exile by Katha Books is a three-part non-fiction illustrated series, experimenting with material and form. It builds a narrative about home not just as a physical space, but an emotional and cognitive reality that we consciously build. The three books follow the stories of Jampa, Kizom and Lobdorjee as Tibetan refugees living in Bylakuppe, India. I interviewed Aaniya Asrani, the author and illustrator of the series by Katha India.
Read the full interview with Aaniya Asrani here.
"I often get headaches
meaning holding back tears
meaning learning to act, getting better everyday
meaning stretching my lips in a line longer than they are happy with
meaning keeping quiet
meaning not saying i love you"
-from the poem Instead i take an aspirin by Darshita Jain
"I was inspired to portray the Bard on canvas after engaging with Shakespeare for years. Shakespeare is as profound as he is playful, and this is exactly what I have tried to capture. The paintings in this series are not mere illustrations of the Bard’s universe, but are interpretations that are fully self-aware and celebratory of the time and space between the artist and the Bard. The artworks are replete with postcolonial pop-cultural references. While references to Shakespeare’s work makes for an enriched viewing, this series can also be viewed as a portrayal of my world view as an Indian woman. The Bard in Acrylic is my humble love offering to literature and art." -Shweta Rao Garg
Check out Shweta's brilliant collection modern-day interpretation of Shakespeare here.
"We trudge, heavily
through this daylight darkness,
nodding half-heartedly
at blackened people
dropping charred words
onto burned hearts,
watching greyly,
how the un-alive
bury their dead."
-from 3 poems by Megan Dhakshini
In memory of April 21 easter bombings
Vivel #AbSamjhautaNahin is proud to present #VoiceOfArt. A month-long initiative launched in August to pay homage to Women’s Equality, the campaign aims at giving artists across India a platform to share their unadulterated opinions on empowerment through the year. The Alipore Post collaborated with Vivel and invited 10 artists to create artworks on Equality. Check out the full feature here.
This is my newsletter #4: Sheena Dabholkar
^
Snippets from yesterday's edition of This is my newsletter, curated by Sheena of @mindfulandbody. Sheena has given me the gift of gratitude journaling during this lockdown. Her newsletter is a source of comfort, which we could all have in our life 🌸 Read it here and subscribe to the surprise newsletter!
I've been reading Outer Order, Inner Calm by Gretchen Rubin, and slowly decluttering my life! I'm trying to consciously execute Gretchen's one-minute rule; i.e. "Anything you can do in less than a minute, do without delay". It's making me feel like less of a slob, and I encourage you to try it too this week :)
I leave you with this quote that's currently speaking to me:
"Forever is composed of nows.”
-Emily Dickinson
Thank you for reading,
Rohini :)
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