Friday, January 27, 2017

Women Marching

(I am somewhat indisposed, recovering from radiation and chemotherapy treatments, and when women marched in Washington and throughout the country and world I could only watch on C-Span. But in the course of that day I became aware of that same woman power present in Washington also present in my somewhat isolated life. So I wrote this, a poem reflecting on woman power as experienced by someone who has been loved by women who could otherwise have been occupied.  It's not very good, it is self serving in its own ego way (but ain't that the way of poems), and it speaks only to the power of love. Still, as Che Guevara suggested,

“At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality.” 

So, to the end that the Women's March was guided by great feelings of love, here is the poem.)


WOMEN marching

Thousands on thousands:
The power of WOMEN marching
Is real,
As real as it gets.

The power of WOMEN marching
Is no surprise to me,
For I have seen WOMEN
Singularly engaged in witness,
Protest and support,

Seen WOMEN marching
in times of small daily strife,

seen WOMEN marching
in the hard times of life.

I am close to WOMEN,
WOMEN marching in my life.
I know whereof I speak.

EVIDENCE

Here:

SHE has marched for years,
And I with her.
SHE stood in silence against the war
And I with her.
SHE sits by my bedside in quiet
While I am visited by demons.
SHE marches through my pity
And my fears,
SHE brings redemption and release.

There:

SHE has gotten old,
As have I.

SHE writes from Maryland
To tell me that love is still there
And real.

SHE reaches into our past.
SHE remembers us, younger,
Sitting in the sand.

SHE and I shared magic smoke,
SHE remembers my swearing
there were tanks coming over
the waves and dunes.

SHE laughs now,
Marching through
Our little passions.

SHE carries a flag
Of love and laughter.

How can I not be young again,
Marching with her?

Everywhere:

SHE is my alter ego,
My light in darkness,

SHE marches tonight
Through my loneness and fear.

I texted her to phone,
I needed her voice.
We spoke.

SHE wrote later
“The weird days will pass
and soon they will be
just far far away memories!
So far that you could swear
they are not yours.”
SHE marched, this daughter mine,
Into my heart
To stay.

CONCLUSION

So I know:
There are strong WOMEN marching,
In the thousands on Washington’s fields,
And in my life, on my streets,

And the power of those WOMEN
Is as real as it gets.

The power of these WOMEN marching
Surprises only those
Who have refused to get close
To WOMEN,

Who tremble only in fear
At the actions of WOMEN
Trampling out the vintage
Where the grapes of wrath are stored.

For the rest of us,
Close to this blinding
WOMAN force,
Who have received grace on grace,
And sometimes great correctives,
Of equal WOMAN force,
We call out in solidarity
And thanksgiving,

March on! March on!

3 comments:

  1. We are all,
    every last one of us,
    of a woman born.
    Every one of us
    first knew a woman's love.
    Our first cries were breaths
    grieving our physical separation
    from her unconditional love,
    and doomed to live our days
    to find it once again.
    So cherish all women;
    Earhly angels of unconditional love.

    ReplyDelete
  2. the women march beyond Washington and Lewes,they amrch in Lilavois
    the believe in love as the best medicine for your complete healing

    ReplyDelete
  3. Prayers, for you, for all the women, for the woman in each of us.

    ReplyDelete