Some Like Syrians Endure, and: Dwindling Stars, and: Notes From A Disabled Brown Earthling #2

Some Like Syrians Endure

(after Paula Gunn Allen)

Syrians remind me of Indiansat least that's how my blood feels right nownations want to leverage our landwe're better off dead (so says the status quo)the news erases our annihilation& our love, our savage loveI keep thinking … how many Syrians forcibly exiled?(millions)how many Indians removed?(millions)what is my life expectancy—having both an Arab and an Indian heart?who wants to see such hunger?& though so many wish our vanishingsomehow we endurethe gracious soil beneath uswitnesses our long marchesthe sun bears down on our skinrelentless brilliant

Dwindling Stars

"Sonar can be four times louder than a whale call. Southall and his team have seen blue whales and beaked whales stop feeding because of sonar, work that's partially funded by the Navy. Sonar can also cause temporary or permanent hearing loss and, in rare cases, has been connected with whale deaths." (NPR, April 26, 2013)

Your ships break our songs:    when you fire aircannons, practice war, gather    your men and women,line them up, command them to shoot:

    We know.We feel you approach before you arrive.

    We can hear your chantsthrough all layers of our blubber.

Our earth which you cannot see—trembles,your cadence does not sound like our music.

There is none of our ancestral jazz in your military orchestration.

    Please, do not forget us.We are the dwindling stars of the sea.

Our demise means yours will soon follow.

________

    My mind has gone adrift,more times than I care to remember.

    I witnessed my mates, my family,circling, not returning to the shifting currents.

        I could only watch,as they swam towards the shores.

        I cried out to them,you cannot survive on their surface.

            But your war    ships broke their spirits.

My loved ones moved towards your edges,        to warn you,

to stop, to lay down your weapons,    to pause.

My loved ones decided to emerge        from the water

        & beach,

    hoped you would not turn awayagain, when you saw them there, naked,        gasping for air.

    Yet some of you kept right on going,        changed the channelon your televisions & within your minds.

    While others huddled together & wept.        Found their exposureintolerable, & swore you glimpsed humanity        in their eyes.

        You tried    to push them,back into the water.

We believe, if you must find        yourselves in us    so we can live, so be it.

We want to go on to keep swimming & singing        & we do. We sing away    from your ships, planes, & crafts.

        We go on singing because We know our song    is who We are, our creation, our memory, our galaxy.        We are the dwindling stars of the sea, & our music    will continue to flicker, expand, explode, because We arejazz before any human ever found a horn or drum, We were there,    underneath, rising, falling, rising, falling, screeching, playing        every note. We have taken you all over the planet            with the pain of our dissonant beauty,    & you can still hear us, if you choose to listen.

Notes From A Disabled Brown Earthling #2

bless your crippled bodyyour crazy wild mind tooI know the pain of waking into a worldthat deems you disposablebut when unspeakable violence shakes your corewhen your adrenals collapsearthritic legs givejoints ache & every organ shrieksthat is the time to come home to yourselfcomfort your ailing boneshum towards the flashbacksmake a lullaby of your diseasesing to her, to him, to themrock that child / that pain body in your armstill the child settles softly into you