Alice Walker - poems - · PDF fileAlice Walker met Martin Luther King Jr. when she was a...

Classic Poetry Series

Alice Walker- poems -

Publication Date: 2012

Publisher:Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive

Alice Walker(9 February 1944 -) Walker was born in Eatonton, Georgia, the youngest of eight children, to WillieLee Walker and Minnie Lou Tallulah Grant. Her father, who was, in her words,"wonderful at math but a terrible farmer," earned only $300 a year fromsharecropping and dairy farming. Her mother supplemented the family income byworking as a worked 11 hours a day for USD $17 per week to help pay for Aliceto attend college. Living under Jim Crow Laws, Walker's parents resisted landlords who expectedthe children of black sharecroppers to work the fields at a young age. A whiteplantation owner said to her that black people had “no need for education.”Minnie Lou Walker said, "You might have some black children somewhere, butthey don’t live in this house. Don’t you ever come around here again talkingabout how my children don’t need to learn how to read and write.” Her motherenrolled Alice in first grade at the age of four. Growing up with an oral tradition, listening to stories from her grandfather (themodel for the character of Mr. in The Color Purple), Walker began writing, veryprivately, when she was eight years old. "With my family, I had to hide things,"she said. "And I had to keep a lot in my mind." In 1952, Walker was accidentally wounded in the right eye by a shot from a BBgun fired by one of her brothers. Because the family had no car, the Walkerscould not take their daughter to a hospital for immediate treatment. By the timethey reached a doctor a week later, she had become permanently blind in thateye. When a layer of scar tissue formed over her wounded eye, Alice becameself-conscious and painfully shy. Stared at and sometimes taunted, she felt likean outcast and turned for solace to reading and to writing poetry. When she was14, the scar tissue was removed. She later became valedictorian and was votedmost-popular girl, as well as queen of her senior class, but she realized that hertraumatic injury had some value: it allowed her to begin "really to see peopleand things, really to notice relationships and to learn to be patient enough tocare about how they turned out". After high school, Walker went to Spelman College in Atlanta on a full scholarshipin 1961 and later transferred to Sarah Lawrence College near New York City,graduating in 1965. Walker became interested in the U.S. civil rights movementin part due to the influence of activist Howard Zinn, who was one of herprofessors at Spelman College. Continuing the activism that she participated induring her college years, Walker returned to the South where she became

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involved with voter registration drives, campaigns for welfare rights, andchildren's programs in Mississippi. Activism Alice Walker met Martin Luther King Jr. when she was a student at SpelmanCollege in Atlanta in the early 1960s. Walker credits King for her decision toreturn to the American South as an activist for the Civil Rights Movement. Shemarched with hundreds of thousands in August in the 1963 March onWashington. As a young adult, she volunteered to register black voters inGeorgia and Mississippi. On March 8, 2003, International Women's Day, on the eve of the Iraq War, AliceWalker, Maxine Hong Kingston, author of The Woman Warrior; and TerryTempest Williams, author of An Unspoken Hunger; were arrested along with 24others for crossing a police line during an anti-war protest rally outside the WhiteHouse with her dogs. Walker and 5,000 activists associated with theorganizations Code Pink and Women for Peace, marched from Malcolm X Park inWashington D.C. to the White House. The activists encircled the White House. Inan interview with Democracy Now, Walker said, "I was with other women whobelieve that the women and children of Iraq are just as dear as the women andchildren in our families, and that, in fact, we are one family. And so it would havefelt to me that we were going over to actually bomb ourselves." Walker wroteabout the experience in her essay, "We Are the Ones We Have Been WaitingFor." In November 2008, Alice Walker wrote "An Open Letter to Barack Obama" thatwas published on . Walker addresses the newly elected President as "BrotherObama" and writes "Seeing you take your rightful place, based solely on yourwisdom, stamina, and character, is a balm for the weary warriors of hope,previously only sung about." In January 2009, she was one of over 50 signers of a letter protesting theToronto Film Festival's "City to City" spotlight on Israeli filmmakers, condemningIsrael as an "apartheid regime." In March 2009, Alice Walker traveled to Gaza along with a group of 60 otherfemale activists from the anti-war group Code Pink, in response to the Gaza War.Their purpose was to deliver aid, to meet with NGOs and residents, and topersuade Israel and Egypt to open their borders into Gaza. She planned to visitGaza again in December 2009 to participate in the Gaza Freedom March. On Jun23, 2011, she announced plans to participate in an upcoming aid flotilla to Gaza

which is attempting to break Israel's naval blockade. Explaining her reasons shecited concern for the children and that she felt that "elders" should bring"whatever understanding and wisdom we might have gained in our fairly longlifetimes, witnessing and being a part of struggles against oppression". Fellowauthor Howard Jacobson took Walker to task saying that her concern for thechildren does not justify the flotilla. In a June 2011 interview, Walker described the United States and Israel as"terrorist organizations" stating "When you terrorize people, when you makethem so afraid of you that they are just mentally and psychologically woundedfor life -- that's terrorism." Personal life In 1965, Walker met Melvyn Roseman Leventhal, a Jewish civil rights lawyer.They were married on March 17, 1967 in New York City. Later that year thecouple relocated to Jackson, Mississippi, becoming "the first legally married inter-racial couple in Mississippi". They were harassed and threatened by whites,including the Ku Klux Klan. The couple had a daughter Rebecca in 1969. Walkerdescribed her in 2008 as "a living, breathing, mixed-race embodiment of the newAmerica that they were trying to forge." Walker and her husband divorcedamicably in 1976. Walker and her daughter became estranged. Rebecca felt herself to be more of"a political symbol... than a cherished daughter". She published a memoirentitled Black White and Jewish, expressing the complexities of her parents'relationship and her childhood. Rebecca recalls her teenage years when hermother would retreat to her far-off writing studio while “I was left with money tobuy my own meals and lived on a diet of fast food.” Since the birth of Rebecca’sson Tenzin, her mother has not spoken to her because she dared to “questionher ideology.” Rebecca has learned that she was cut out of her mother’s will infavor of a distant cousin. In the mid-1990s, Walker was involved in a romance with singer-songwriterTracy Chapman. In 2011 shooting began on Beauty in Truth, a documentary film about Walker'slife directed by Pratibha Parmar. Writing career Walker's first book of poetry was written while she was a senior at Sarah

Lawrence. She took a brief sabbatical from writing while working in Mississippi inthe civil rights movement. Walker resumed her writing career when she joinedMs. magazine as an editor before moving to northern California in the late 1970s.Her 1975 article, In Search of Zora Neale Hurston, published on Ms Magazine,helped revive interest in the work of Zora Neale Hurston, who inspired Walker'swriting and subject matter. In 1973, Walker and fellow Hurston scholar CharlotteD. Hunt discovered Hurston's unmarked grave in Ft. Pierce, Florida. The womencollaborated to buy a modest headstone for the gravesite. In addition to her collected short stories and poetry, Walker's first novel, TheThird Life of Grange Copeland, was published in 1970. In 1976, Walker's secondnovel, Meridian, was published. The novel dealt with activist workers in the Southduring the civil rights movement, and closely paralleled some of Walker's ownexperiences. In 1982, Walker published what has become her best-known work, the novel TheColor Purple. About a young troubled black woman fighting her way through notonly racist white culture but also patriarchal black culture, it was a resoundingcommercial success. The book became a bestseller and was subsequentlyadapted into a critically acclaimed 1985 movie as well as a 2005 Broadwaymusical. Walker has written several other novels, including The Temple of My Familiar andPossessing the Secret of Joy (which featured several characters and descendantsof characters from The Color Purple). She has published a number of collectionsof short stories, poetry, and other published work. She expresses the struggles ofblack people, particularly women, and their lives in a racist, sexist, and violentsociety. Her writings also focus on the role of women of color in culture andhistory. Walker is a respected figure in the liberal political community for hersupport of unconventional and unpopular views as a matter of principle. Her short stories include the 1973 Everyday Use, in which she discussesfeminism, racism and the issues raised by young black people who leave homeand lose respect for their parents' culture. In 2007, Walker gave her papers, 122 boxes of manuscripts and archivematerial, to Emory University's Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library. Inaddition to drafts of novels such as The Color Purple, unpublished poems andmanuscripts, and correspondence with editors, the collection includes extensivecorrespondence with family members, friends and colleagues, an early treatmentof the film script for The Color Purple, syllabi from courses she taught, and fanmail. The collection also contains a scrapbook of poetry compiled when Walker


was 15, entitled "Poems of a Childhood Poetess". Selected awards and honors Pulitzer Prize for Fiction (1983) for The Color PurpleNational Book Award for Fiction (1983) for The Color PurpleO. Henry Award for "Kindred Spirits" 1985.Honorary Degree from the California Institute of the Arts (1995)American Humanist Association named her as "Humanist of the Year" (1997)The Lillian Smith Award from the National Endowment for the ArtsThe Rosenthal Award from the National Institute of Arts & LettersThe Radcliffe Institute Fellowship, the Merrill Fellowship, and a GuggenheimFellowshipThe Front Page Award for Best Magazine Criticism from the Newswoman's Club ofNew YorkInduction to the California Hall of Fame in The California Museum for History,Women, and the Arts (2006)Domestic Human Rights Award from Global Exchange (2007)

A Picture Story For The Curious (You supply the pictures!) I get to meditatein a chair!Or against the wallwith my legsstretched out!(Or even in bed!) I get to seemaybe halfof what I'm looking at!(This changes everything!) I get to dancelike the tipsy old menI adoredwhen I was an infant!(They never dropped me!) I get to spend time with myselfwhenever I want!I get to ride a bicyclewith tallhandlebars!(My posture improves!) I get to give uplearning to sail!I get to knowI will never speakGerman! I get to snuggle allmorningwith my snugglerof choice:counting the hoursby how many times


we get upto pee! I get to spend time with myselfwhenever I want!I get to eat chocolatewith my salad.Or even as a first course!I get to forget!I get to paintwith colorsI mix myself!ColorsI've never seenbefore. I get to sleepwith my dog& pray never to outlivemy cat!I get to playmusicwithout readinga note! I get to spend time with myselfwhenever I want!I get to sleepin ahammockunder the samestarswherever I am!I get to spend time with myselfwhenever I want! I get to laughat all the thingsI don't know& cannotfind!


I get to greetpeople I don't rememberas if I know themvery well.After all, how differentcan they be? I get to growmy entiregardenin a fewpots!I get to spend time with myselfwhenever I want! I get to see& feelthe sufferingof the wholeworld& to takea napwhen I feellike itanyway! I get to spend time with myselfwhenever I want! I get to feelmore lovethan I ever thoughtexisted!Everything appears to be madeof the stuff! I feel thisespecially for You! Though I may not rememberexactly which Youyou are!How cool is this!Still, I get to spend time with myself


whenever I want!And that is just a tasteas the old people used to saydown in Georgiawhen I was a childof what you getfor getting old. Reminding us, as they witnessed our curiosity about them, that no matter thelosses, there's something fabulous going on at every stage of Life, something tolet go of, maybe, but for darn sure, something to get! Alice Walker


Be Nobody's Darling Be nobody's darling;Be an outcast.Take the contradictionsOf your lifeAnd wrap aroundYou like a shawl,To parry stonesTo keep you warm.Watch the people succumbTo madnessWith ample cheer;Let them look askance at youAnd you askance reply.Be an outcast;Be pleased to walk alone(Uncool)Or line the crowdedRiver bedsWith other impetuousFools. Make a merry gatheringOn the bankWhere thousands perishedFor brave hurt wordsThey said. But be nobody's darling;Be an outcast.Qualified to liveAmong your dead. Alice Walker


Before I Leave The Stage Before I leave the stageI will sing the only songI was meant truly to sing. It is the songof I AM.Yes: I am Me&You.WE ARE. I love Us with every dropof our bloodevery atom of our cellsour waving particles-undaunted flags of our Being-neither here nor there. Alice Walker


Blessed Are The Poor In Spirit Did you ever understand this?If my spirit was poor, how could I enter heaven?Was I depressed?Understanding editing,I see how a comma, removed or insertedwith careful plan,can change everything.I was reminded of thiswhen a poor young manin Tunisiadesperate to liveand humiliated for tryingset himself ablaze;I felt uncomfortably warmas if scalded by his shame.I do not have to sell vegetables from a cart as he didor live in narrow rooms too small for spacious thought;and, at this late date,I do not worry that someone willremove every single opportunityfor me to thrive.Still, I am connected to, inseparable from,this young man.Blessed are the poor, in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.Jesus. (Commas restored) .Jesus was as usual talking about solidarity: about how we join with othersand, in spirit, feel the world, and suffering, the same as them.This is the kingdom of owning the other as self, the self as other;that transforms grief intopeace and delight.I, and you, might enter the heavenof right herethrough this door.In this spirit, knowing we are blessed,we might remain poor Alice Walker


Desire My desireis always the same; wherever Lifedeposits me:I want to stick my toe& soon my whole bodyinto the water.I want to shake out a fat broom& sweep dried leavesbruised blossomsdead insects& dust.I want to growsomething.It seems impossible that desirecan sometimes transform into devotion;but this has happened.And that is how I've survived:how the holeI carefully tendedin the garden of my heartgrew a heartto fill it. Alice Walker


Don’t Be Like Those Who Ask For Everything Don’t be like those who ask for everything:praise, a blurb, a free ride in my rentedlimousine. They ask for everything but never offeranything in return.Be like those who can see that my feet achefrom across a crowded roomthat a foot rubif I’m agreeablenever mind the staringis the best way to smile& say helloto me. Alice Walker


Expect Nothing Expect nothing. Live frugallyOn surprise.become a strangerTo need of pityOr, if compassion be freelyGiven outTake only enoughStop short of urge to pleadThen purge away the need. Wish for nothing largerThan your own small heartOr greater than a star;Tame wild disappointmentWith caress unmoved and coldMake of it a parkaFor your soul. Discover the reason whySo tiny human midgetExists at allSo scared unwiseBut expect nothing. Live frugallyOn surprise. Alice Walker


From: Poems To My Girls IHow can Humanitylook the deerinthe face? How can Mommy,having erectedmy fence? Alice Walker


Going Out To The Garden Going out to the gardenthis morningto plant seedsfor my winter greens-the strong, fiery mustard& the milderbroadleaf turnip-I saw a geckowholike the rest of ushas beenreelingfrom the heat. Geckos like heatI know thisbut the heatthese last few dayshas been excessivefor us& for them. A spray of waterfrom the hosetouched its skin:I thought it wouldrun away.There are crevicesaplentyto hide in:the garden wallis made of stones. But nonot onlydid the geckonot run awayit appearedto raise


its eyes& headlooking for more. I gave it. Squirt aftersquirtof coolingsprayfrom the greengarden hose. Is it the endof the world?It seemed to ask.This bliss,is it Paradise? I bathed ituntil we were bothwashed cleanof the troublesof this worldat least for this moment:this moment of pleasureof geckojoyas I with so much happinessplayed Goddessto Gecko. Alice Walker


I Will Keep Broken Things I will keepBrokenThings:The big clayPotWith raisedIguanasChasingTheirTails;TwoOf theirWise HeadsShearedOff; I will keepBrokenthings:The oldSlaveMarketBasketBroughtTo myDoor By MississippiA jaggedHoleGougedIn its sturdyDarkOakSide. I will keep


Brokenthings:The memoryOfThoseLongDeliciousNightSwimsWithYou; I will keepBrokenthings:In my houseThereRemainsAn HonoredShelfOn whichI willKeepBrokenThings. Their beautyIsTheyNeedNotEverBe'fixed.' I will keepYourWildFreeLaughter


ThoughIt is nowMissingItsReassuringAndGracefulHinge. I will keepBrokenThings: Thank youSo much! I will keepBrokenThings. I will keepYou: PilgrimOfSorrow. I will keepMyself. Alice Walker


If I Was President If I was PresidentThe first thing I would dois call Mumia Abu-Jamal.No,if I was presidentthe first thing I would dois call Leonard Peltier.No,if I was presidentthe first person I would callis that rascalJohn Trudell.No,the first person I'd callis that other rascalDennis Banks.I would also callAlice Walker.I would make a conference call.And I would say this:Yo, you troublemakers,it is time to let all of usout of prison.Pack up your things:Dennis and John,collect Alice WalkerIf you can find her:In Mendocino, Molokai, Mexico orGaza,& head out to the prisonswhere Mumia and Leonardare waiting for you.They will be travelinglight.Mumia used to own a lotof papersbut they took most of thoseaway from him.Leonard


will probably want to drag alongsome of hiscanvases.Alicewho may well beshoppingin New Delhiwill no doubt want todress up for the occasionin a sparkly shalwar kemeez.My next call is going to beto the Cubansall five of them;so stop worrying.For now, you're my fish.I just had this long letterfrom Alice and she has begged meto put an endto her suffering.What? she said.You think these men are the only ones who sufferwhen Old Style America locks them up& throws awaythe key?I can't tell you, she goes on,the changesthis viciousnesshas put me through,and I have had a child to raise& classes to teach& food to buyand just becauseI'm a poetit doesn't meanI don't have topay the mortgageor the rent.Yet all these years,nearly thirty or somethingof themI have been running aroundthe country


and the worldtrying to arouse justicefor these men.Tonsillitishasn't stopped me.Migraine,hasn't stopped me.Lyme diseasehasn't stopped me.And why?Becauseknowing the countrythat I'm in,as you are destined to learnit too,I know wrongwhen I see it.If that chair you're sitting incould speakyou would have it movedto another room.You would burn it.So, amigos,pack your things.Alice and John and Dennisare on their way.They are bringing prayers from Nilak Butler and Bill Wapepah;they are bringing sweet grass and white sagefrom Pine Ridge.I am the presidentat least until the Corporationspurchase the next election,and this is what I chooseto doon my first day. Alice Walker


Knowing You Might Some Day Come Knowing you might some day comeand how unprepared I’ve alwaysbeenlike Mr. Sloppyin Charles Dickens’our Mutual FriendI made a list:not meat, vegetables, beer and puddingbut number l, warmth.number 2, warmth.number 3, warmth.number 4, a good snuggler.number 5, someone who singswhile he/she works.number 6, a dancer.number 7, someone who grows & isintrigued bythe mind. Andby the spirit too.Number 7, someone who is lovedby animals; and lovesthem back withouta thought.number 8, someone who smellsdelicious.number 9, someone whose angerlasts no longer than mine.number 10, someone whostands beside me. behind me. If necessaryin front of me.number 11, someone whois a passable cook.number 12, Someone who laughsa lot, thinks I have a finesenseof humor& has friends.number 13, someone who can beoriginal in dress:


stylishwarlock –In silver, lapis& black – to my witch. Alice Walker


Our Martyr When the peoplehave won a victorywhether smallor largedo you ever wonderat that momentwhere the martyrsmight be?They who sacrificedthemselvesto bring to lifesomething unknownthough nonetheless more preciousthan their blood.I like to think of themhovering over uswherever we have gatheredto weep and to rejoice;smiling and laughing,actually slapping each other's palmsin glee.Their blood has driedand become rose petals.What you feel brushing your cheekis not only your tearsbut these.Martyrs never regretwhat they have donehaving done it.Amazing toothey never frown.It is all so mysteriousthe way they remainabove usbeside uswithin us;how they beama human sunriseand are so proud.


Alice Walker


Remember RememberWhen we endedIt all-for a weekend-& howWe knew?You tookThe tea bowlThat IBrokeInCarelessnessTo glue togetherAgainAt yourHouse. Alice Walker


She She is the onewho will noticethat the first snapdragonof Springisin bloom; She is the onewho will tell the mostfunny&complicatedjoke. She is the onewho will surprise youby knowing the differencebetween turnipsand collardGreens; & between biscuits& scones. She is the one who knows whereto take youfor dancingor where the food& the restaurant’sdecorare notto bemissed. She is the onewho is saintly. She is the onewho reserves the right


to dresslike a slut. She is the onewho takes you shopping; She is the onewho knows wherethe best clothesare boughtcheap. She is the onewho warms yourhomewith her fragrance; the one who bringsmusic, magic & joy. She is the onespeakingthe truthfrom her heart. She is the one at the bedsidewedding, funeralsor divorceof all the best peopleyou dearly love. She is the onewith courage. She is the onewho speaksher bright mind; She is the onewho encourages young &oldto do the same.


She is the oneon the picket line, at the barricade,at the prison, in jail; She is the onewho is there. If they come for me& I am at her houseI knowshe will hide me. If I tell herwhere I have hiddenmy heartshe will keepmy secretsafe. She is the onewhowithout hesitationcomes to my aid &my defense. She is the onewho believesmy side of the storyFirst; She is the onewhose heartis open. She is the one who loves. She is the one who makesactivismthe most compellingbecause she is the onewho is irresistable


her own self. She is our sister, our teacher, our friend: Gloria Steinem. Born 75 years agoGloriousTo your parents& stillRadiantToday. Happy Birthday, Beloved.The grand feastOf your noble SpiritHas been& is the cakethat nourishesUs. We thank you for your Beauty& your Being. Namaste. Alice Walker


The Tree Of Life Has Fallen The tree of lifehas fallen on my small house.I thought it was so much bigger!But it is not.There in the distance I see the mountainsstill.The view of vast water stretching before meis superb.My boat is grand and I still command the captainof it; not having learned myself to sail.But I am adriftwithout my tree of lifethat has fallen heavywithout grace or pityon this small place.For the departing dictator, in perpetuity. Alice Walker


The Ways Of Water With your unknownto meOdd magicYou cameTo me:Your truckBackfiringAs if sendingOutRocketsTo theStars You cameInSo gracefullyRocketsSilencedBehind you &SetTo workAs if nothingBrought youGreaterJoy. I did not see Life wasAbout to change, as it does,When odd magic appears:There wasNo musicYet. ChattingAbout relationships, our freedomFrom same,Which weSo defended;About water, faucet


Drips;The giftsOf growing older;You set to work& I, standing above youAs you lay onYour backStudiedYour feet:Well cared forIn ocean blueSandalsMade of toughPlastic. Buddies,We said, we agreedThat's what weNeeded.How about going outTogether as buddiesFor a night of music& dance? My firstIndicationThat songHad a placeInYour world. Two years laterThe leakIn my kitchenSinkRemainsFixedAs well asThe leakI never mentionedIn my spirit. Early and lateWe savor


The musicThat comesFromYour hornThe Golden PhoenixThat travelsWith usEverywhere Your soundYour love of Miles & Bird& WyntonMakingFriends of strangersAroundThe globe. In PoorCountriesWhereThe grassHas died& the ponies& oxenAlso& the peopleHave nothingTo bath inOr to drink&Yet are soothedBy your cool& liquidMusic, whichYou pour over themSo freely,I want to tell them:Yes, he is alsoA water man. Yes, he also knowsThe ways


Of water. But they know this. Alice Walker


To Change The World Enough To change the world enoughyou must cease to be afraidof the poor.We experience your fear as the least pardonable ofhumiliations; in the pastit has sent us scurrying offdaunted and ashamedinto the shadows.Now,the world endingthe only one all of us have knownwe seek the samefresh lightyou do:the same high placeand ample table.The poor always believethere is room enoughfor all of us;the very rich never seem to have heardof this.In us there is wisdom of how to shareloaves and fisheshowever few;we do this everyday.Learn from us,we ask you.We enter nowthe dreaded locationof Earth's reckoning;no longer faroffor hidden in booksthat claim to discloserevelations;it is here.We must walk together without fear.There is no path without us


Alice Walker


Torture When they torture your motherplant a treeWhen they torture your fatherplant a treeWhen they torture your brotherand your sisterplant a treeWhen they assassinateyour leadersand loversplant a treeWhey they torture youtoo badto talkplant a tree.When they begin to torturethe treesand cut down the forestthey have madestart another. Alice Walker


Turning Madness Into Flowers #1 If my sorrow were deeperI'd be, along with you, underthe ocean's floor;but today I learn that the oilthat pools beneath the ocean flooris essenceresidueremainsof all ourrelationsallour ancestors who have died and turned to oilwithout our witnesseons ago.We've always belonged to them.Speaking for you, hanging, weeping, over the water's edgeas well as for myself.It is our griefheavy, relentless,trudgingus, however resistant,to the decaying and rottenbottom of things:our grief bringingus home. Alice Walker


What It Feels Like As if I've swallowedA watermelonAndSidesteppingMy digestive tractIt has lodgedIn my heart.There it liesGreen& wholewith a lusciousredheart of its owndaring meto cut. Alice Walker


What Makes The Dalai Lama Lovable? His postureFrom so many yearsHolding his robe with one handIs odd. His gaitAlso. One's own bodyAchesWitnessingThe slopingShoulders& AngledNeck; One hopesHeAttendsYoga classOr does YogaOn his ownAs partOf prayer. He smilesAs he bowsTo Everything:AcceptingThe heavyBurdensOfThis earth; It'sToxicEvils& ProlificInsults.


Even so,He sleepsThroughThe nightLike a childBecauseThank goodnessThat is somethingElseDaylongMeditationAssures. You could cryYourself to sleepOn his behalf& HeHas done thatToo. LifeHas beenA greatEndlessTearing awayForHim. FromMother, Father, Siblings, Country, Home.And yetClearlyHis motherLoved him;His brother & sisterToo:Even hisNot so constant father,WhoWhen Tenzin wasA boy


SharedWith himDeliciousScrapsOfSucculentPork. He laughsTelling thisStoryOver half a centuryLater&To who knowsHow manyPuzzledVegetarians:AboutThe way he satBehindHis father's chairLike a dog,RelishingEach juicyGreasyBite. Whenever I seeThe Dalai LamaMy first impulseIs to laughI am so happyToLay eyesOnOneSo effortlesslyBeautiful. That balding headThat holds


A shine;Those wire framedGlassesThat mightHave comeFromAnywhere. His look of having givenAll he has. He is my teacher;Just staying alive. Other teachersI have hadResemble himIn some way; They tooWere&AreSmartAnd Humble;FascinatedBy Science & things likeTime,Eternity,Cause & Effect;The EvolutionOf the Soul. A soulThatMightOr might notExist. They tooSee all of us-Banker, murderer, gardener, thief -


When they lookOut acrossThe world: But that is not allThey see. They see our suffering;Our strivingTo findThe right path;The one with heartWe may onlyHave heardAbout. The Dalai Lama is CoolA modern wordFor"Divine"Because he wantsOnlyOur collectiveHealth& Happiness. That's it! What makesHimLovableIsHis holiness. Alice Walker


When You See Water When you see water in a streamyou say: oh, this is streamwater;When you see water in the riveryou say: oh, this is waterof the river;When you see oceanwateryou say: This is the ocean'swater!But actually water is alwaysonly itselfand does not belongto any of these containersthough it creates them.And so it is with you. Alice Walker


When You Thought Me Poor When you thought me poor,my poverty was shaming.When blackness was unwelcomewe found it bestthat I stay home. When by the miracleof fierce dreaming and hard workLife fulfilled our every wantyou found me crasslywell off;not trimly,inconspicuously wealthylike your rich friends. Still black too,nowI owned too much and too manyof everything. Woe is me: I became asuccess! Blackness, whoknows how?Became suddenlyin! What to do?Now that Fate appears(for the moment anyhow)to have dismissedabject failurein any case?Now that moonlight and nighthave blessed me. Now that the sununaffected by criticismof any sort,implacably beams


the kiss filled magic that createsthe dark and radiant wonderof my face. Alice Walker


Word Reaches Us Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others walking there a sense of what we have lost: the broad expanse of humanity’s sensitivity to the oneness of itself. Gabrielle, while you sleep, resting your nimble brain, we think of walking with you in the valley of the shadow of death; holding you up. We hope you can feel our grief; our sorrow vast like the ocean that draws us. We know in this moment you teach us many things: how all across the world


there is no one who deserves this fate. We know we must bleach and sterilize our tongues, brighten with understanding all our dark thoughts. Sister, whom I never met except in this pain that has so wounded you thank you for reminding us through your suffering and your suspenseful sleep that we must change. Alice Walker


Working Class Hero My brothers knewThe things you know.I did not scornlearning them;It’s just my mindWas busy being trained For “Other Things”: Poetry, Philosophy, Literature.Survival, for a girl. But now,What a reliefTo see you understandThe waysOf horsesTheir shyness& hatredOfLoneliness: That you will notHesitateTo rescueAn old horse,Dying on His feet&That you willCheerfullyWash him,Aged&IncontinentHeadToToe. Missing


With your bucket&RagNotOneHiddenCreviceAs heTrembles& weeps. What peaceTo seeRaising chickensDoes notMystify youandHot water heaters& their waysAre well known;That electricity& how itWorksIs somethingWithinYour grasp. That you canGet a carTo runBy pokingIt inA few mysteriousPlacesUnderThe hood. That you canFix aBrokenAnything: battery, truck, stove,Door, fridge, lamp, chicken coop hinge


While teaching meThe ins and outsOf OperaOrWhile singingLustyItalianTenorThatShakesThe walls. That you canSit, comfy,UnperturbedBy trafficIn the womb-likeBack seatOf myAgingChariotWhile I drive& youRideThe silverBlack& GoldenHorsesOfYourTrumpet. Alice Walker


You Want To Grow Old Like The Carters Let other leadersRetireTo play golf& writeMemoirsAbout bombingVillagesThey've never seen. Growing oldPresents a perilThey may notExpect. It is to loseOne's soulIn trivia& irrelevanceThe nerveEndingsBluntedBy the constantPressureOf moralIndifference. Growing oldA curse:Not evenGenerally speakingAbleTo relateTo whoeverShares Your house. Not the mansionYou inhabitOn theLovely stolen hill


Above the seaOr the interior one:The darkenedDesolateShack. You want to grow oldLikeThe Carters;Curing blindness&Building housesForThe Poor; Making friends of thoseWho believeThey must fight. You want to grow oldLikeThe CartersHolding handsWith someoneYou love&Riding bicyclesLeisurelyWhere the groundIs well known& perfectlyFlat. You want to findAnd keep to the pathLaid downInside youSuch a long timeAgo. You want to grow oldLike


The Carters:Serene. EyesTwinklingTo be accusedOfNot gettingIt right. Upfront, upright.Speaking what to you is true. A person rich in Mothers.Beloved. And:Honoring what is blackIn you. Alice Walker


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