Seattle Participants Nancy Peacock . |
DIALOGUE AMONG CIVILIZATIONS THROUGH POETRY |
Seattle Participants Nancy Peacock . |
Three Times I Have Been Muslim I. First day of Kindergarten, my father makes sure I double-knot my shoelaces, walks me to my class, gives me two pieces of advice: Do what your teacher tells you and Say you can't eat pork for religious reasons. He didn't tell me what religion, so all year my classmates thought the Chinese girl was Jewish and I wasn't sure myself. II. My mother had been watching the news: hate crimes against Arab Americans rising, university students protesting the Gulf War. She called me at my dorm: I can't stop you from protesting, but don't tell anyone you're Muslim. The Chinese Koran in my parents' house is tucked behind potboilers on the shelf, a tapestry of an unnamed city with a black box hangs in the study. My mother's aunts still cover their hair in China, she colors hers black, defiant in her beauty, until she remembers that she is hiding something too. III. I, who have only occasionally been Muslim, do not know grafitti on my place of worship, have never driven a cab to a hostile street corner, have never feared to buy groceries because of the cloth I wear on my head. Mosques in America are burning. The Chinese Koran sits on its shelf in a language I cannot read. Today, I saw a picture in a book, and it was of the Kabbah, Sacred Mosque of Mecca and I realized that the city and the black box both have names, but it is too late the tapestry is unravelling, bright colors melting as if on fire. Will the resting place of my mother and father burn? Their warnings are urgent the only doctrine I know. -Diana Ma |
Fatu's Cooking My neighbor skims milk in moonlight, her babies sleep to her laugh. An old Pa cries "Women and Snakes!" at us but my Fula girlfriend only charms rice from husk in her palm-weave basket. I eat from her plate, I eat from her hand, with a dab of cow butter beside. We sit half the night on my Peace Corps chop box while moon glides over milk. -Kelly Riggle Hower |
POETRY = PEACE "A poem can bring peace" a pleasant thought indeed. In childhood, I accepted language's power. I knew words could hurt. So why not let them heal? Now, full-grown, I've lost touch with that faith. Others carry on, their dictionaries filled with meaning. Trapped in a downward spiral the world is again at war. Body piled on body with no end in sight. Whose bizarre encryption defies my childhood dream that a poem can bring peace! Abe Schweid |
DIALOGUE AMONG CIVILIZATIONS THROUGH POETRY WEEK in Seattle, WA. Monday 18 March 2002 Seattle Public Library, University Branch hosted by It's About Time Writers Reading Series In conjuction with: DIALOGUE AMONG CIVILIZATIONS THROUGH POETRY WEEK |