Saturday, April 26, 2008

Here is a lovely link for moviegoers, from my daughter. Enough said.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Poetry by a 'friend'

I belong to a group of Baha'i Writers online, and this morning one of the members shared a poem his daughter had written in response to a journey undertaken during her time in Haifa at the Baha'i World Center. I thought it was a great poem and have been granted permission to share it here. Here, then, is a poem by Laurel Tomanio, posted with permission. I like it very, very much.

On Interconnectedness

In Eilat, there are curves of camels in the sand and
coral growing by the centimeter in the Red blue Sea and
Hebrew rushing through the hot, dry bones of mountains,
a ghostly whisper of freedom

In the middle of the night,
the moon blows in dust from Egypt's pyramids
coating the houses in the memory of pharaohs and slaves.

I lie still in our tent on the tip of Israel watching
the dust settle and listening
to the lilting staccatos of the Philippines

Later, a Brazilian Jew wearing an American
flag t-shirt serves us tea in chipped white mugs.
When I comment on my country,
he tells me, "You like? It's not for sale."
then looks far away to where
the anger fades around the edges

I glance up quickly, surprised by
the ownership he found in my voice.
In his eyes, there is nothing
but dead mountains. When he reaches the last
peak and finds it already occupied
by its own sadness, he looks down
and I follow his gaze to the sea.

For minutes, we two search the liquid,
I for the border of Jordan and he
for the safety the land could not give.

My skin is dry, so dry, and suddenly I need
to be in that water where
it is whole and men
cannot draw lines in the sand

that widen into cracks
crevices, gaping rifts.
Where nothing asks permission
to move and whales brush against
my body reminding me that I am not

I think about all the lines I crossed today—
Ofa the camel carrying me, uninterested,
from the Negeve to the Syrian Desert.
Face down in the Red Sea where
Israel and Jordan's angelfish
exchange secrets.

Singing Filipino love songs under a full moon,
between us only a thatched roof
that in the end kept apart neither moonlight nor music

I dream that night of weaving
mountains out of wind
Oceans out of Words.