What do you see
In this Winter face?
The imminent decomposition of the unbeautiful?
Even so, even in that
I see that all my pieces
Have their own story.
My hands have worked a brand of
That is much more sociology than
My body has bourne children
Who fly away from me
In becoming of themselves.
This body burned and burning,
Flies apart in exothermic birthing,
Molds again in endothermic coupling,
Touches ground and stretches to the sky,
My hands move across the page
With words this time,
The taste, the sound of them
Drips, mists, rains in torrents,
Common-tongued as a storm on a street corner;
Cursed and shared and necessary.
Fingers pushing colors from my eyes into images that speak,
Or pulling the taut metallic strings of a guitar,
And waves flowing between notes
Falling from my lips
Join with the air,
Steam rising, molecules
Dispersed to dance,
Becoming something new,
Posts Tagged 'political prisoner poetry'
Tags: poetry, political prisoner, political prisoner poetry
Tags: Isle of Windows, Marie Mason, poetry, political prisoner poetry, political prisoner writing, sugar cane plantations, worker exploitation
Marie wrote this poem after hearing a story about workers becoming ill in Nicaragua from working on rubber tree and sugar cane plantations.
The Isle of Widows, Nicaragua
The heat rises, steam
With the breath of trees,
Into the air
Haunted eyes speak
Their questions of a mystery
The men of science come to study
This embarassing plague
This withering away
That leaves the widows wondering.
What is the science of oppression? Continue reading ‘Marie Mason Poem for Nicaraguan Workers’