|
LaNomeolvides
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Kirsten
Birthday: 6/9/1984
Gender: Female
Interests: I have rather ecclectic interests. They range from philosophy to photography to salsa dancing to politics to youthful idealism regarding issues such as peace and justice to Indian food. But of most of these I have only a cursory knowledge; in general, theatre practice and theory, the Spanish language and Latin America, and coffee figure most prominently into my interests.
Expertise: If you want to know anything about Augusto Boal, I could probably help you out. I am also a mad master of Spanish morphosyntax, and I know a little (REALLY little) Portuguese, Hungarian, Czech and Welsh. I make a wicked pot of coffee and can successfully navegate most of Barcelona. They tell me I give good back rubs, and I can blow smoke rings.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  LaNomeolvides
Member Since:
8/20/2004
|
|
| "All night the wind has been raging so hard that I thought my window will shatter."
K Ashequl Haque
Dhaka resident
I am struck by the beauty of this sentence--the images it conjures up from a surface level reading, the eloquent way it bespeaks a person struggling against disaster and all the emotions associated with that struggle, the very syntax and slightly agrammatical translation aids in fleshing out both the moment and the person (or at least the glimpse of the person) captured between those quotation marks. This is poetry.
But the situation on the ground is not. When, in three days, perhaps a week and a half at best, Bangladesh ceases to be on the main page of the BBC news (is it front page on any American sites or papers? Honest question.), what will happen to the people who have just had their livelihoods, homes, and families flattened and destroyed by this storm? Their difficulties and loss won't go away when the world media's attention wanders elsewhere. What will we do then? What will I do? Probably nothing. Nor is this storm the origin of all Bangladeshi difficulties--but who gave any thought to Bangladesh before this? Certainly not I, not since a ninth-grade geopgraphy bee. Where do we begin? How to be decent? How to be selfless? How to love? | | |
| I think this is it. This could well be it. All on account of a dayplanner and a hat. | | |
| performance
social action
religion
movement
peace
justice
truth
beauty
hope
love
creation
incarnation
transubstantiation
manifestation
story
unity
shalom
ecstasy
mishpat
tzedekah
servanthood
energy
divine
redemption
ritual
meaning
connection
life | | |
| 30.07.07
Five thousand of the havoc-making angels
Trace a dervish's path across the sand
Kick up clouds of vertiginous dust
Holy, unholy
Transient, transcendent
Billowing clouds of asphyxiating dust
Permeate the lungs, the mind, the blood, and all the dark corners in the bowels of the soul
Perpetually left unswept in the bowels of the soul.
Five thousand of the havoc-making angels
Whirling through a world of memory
Unbound by laws of time and space
Leave trinkets, teaspoons
Pocketwatches and guilt
Ghosts in the flesh in someone else's moment
All standing trial before stenographer, jury, judge, and a room-full of witnesses to someone else's crime
Condemned by the pocketwatches and teaspoons of someone else's crime.
Five thousand of the havoc-making angels
Overflow the labyrinth's corridors
Place strategic echoes around every corner
Guiding and misguiding
Taunting and yearning
Seeking the dead ends where the locked boxes are
Cry songs whose echoes rend the boxes' chains, locks, and jointures, pick the locks and throw away the keys
Release all the contents and throw away the keys.
Five thousand of the havoc-making angels
Pile debris in the center of the camp
Fill the meadow with irrational spoils
Brilliant and terrifying
Grotesque and mundane
A landfill-shrine to reified fear
Hallow the hole where their dance and fire and laughter and torrential rains bury it all in obilvion
Unresolved and unforgotten and buried in oblivion. | | |
|
