In Honor of My Mother, International Women’s Day and the #MeToo Movement
by Jacques Fleury
[From Fleury’s Boston Globe featured book Sparks in the Dark: A Lighter Shade of Blue, A Poetic Memoir]
Through my senses, I see sadly her unaffected gazes Her intrigue’s absences Her relationship to relationships Slowly and softly bending Like two birds sharing a stem The thin branch softly bending Sighs with her burden; Trapped in discontentment Like Winter’s malevolence, But she found in her a weather of resilience, The sounds of her heels on the stoical pavement echoes like
her laughter in the desert paths of remembrance She throws her head back and laughs As young men beg for a chance to kill her lack of chance Her essence glowing like the moon in starless skies She like a picturesque whirl like a slow-moving storm, Slowly rushes into a room Smiles in recognition of her adulation Then sways her hips ever so lovingly Among the artful debris And cocks her head as if to hear the dead Extending her left ear to face the light Oblivious to the presence of a challenge Waiting to hear words to confirm her rights And a tear from the moon falls into her eyes Then in her benediction glows Then in her benediction grows So she opens her mouth and blows a hue of winter, But sometimes she opens her mouth and blows a hue of summer, Depending on the noisiest weather! One day she opened her eyes in horror To see the moon a reddish color! To see her world of beauty in fury crumbling around her like a fallen deity So then she crumbles too; Having been made of snow, The wrath of the wind broke through her window, then there she lies like the ashes of winter, succumbed to the intemperate weather, Then I watch her die, beautifully die.
Jacques Fleury
Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” & other titles are available at all Boston Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, University of Wyoming, Askews and Holts Library Services in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, The Grolier Poetry Bookshop, Amazon etc… He has been published in prestigious publications such as Spirit of Change Magazine, Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, Poets Reading the News, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide, Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene among others…Visit him at: http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury.–
Jacques Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey Towards Understanding Your Authentic Self
Internationally renowned writer, poet and translator, member of the Chinese Writers Association. The only female inheritor of UNESCO-listed Dongba Culture, International Disseminator of Dongba Culture and practitioner of Chinese culture’s global outreach. Winner of the Italian Francesco Giampietri International Literary Award, President of Lanxin Samei Academy and Dean of Yulong Wenbi Dongba Culture Academy.
A thousand years ago
we took root together in this ancient temple
Century after century quietly passed
we became the most devoted ancient trees in all the world
Over this thousand years
through the silent turning of the four seasons
through the unpredictable cycles of life
we have witnessed this ancient temple
rise and fall fall and rise enduring all hardships
We watch beings come and go burn incense and pray
with thousands of wishes in their hearts
Yet our watch has never wavered
not even for a single moment
The butterfly bush blooms pure white in winter and spring
the golden osmanthus shines bright gold in autumn
the red plum blossoms blushing pink in the bitter cold
the Chinese crabapple bursts into rose-red in spring
the incense cypress wears eternal green all year long
Whether the temple is full of voices or completely still
whether incense burns prosperous or only broken walls remain
we stand root to root heart to heart silently guarding one another
Even if the halls collapse and only we are left in heaven and earth
we still firmly believe —
one day the phoenix will come stepping upon light
to reunite with us after a thousand years
Now heaven rewards this thousand year of waiting this endless longing
At last she has arrived —
the phoenix draped in ten thousand rays of golden light
Amidst total desolation she recognized us at first sight
Amidst utter ruin she chose us without hesitation
Amidst broken walls she restored the temple’s thousand-year glory
Amidst silence and loneliness
she made incense burn again and life flourish once more
Amidst the dust of years
she made this sacred land known to all renowned across the world
From this day on
we shall live and die with the phoenix never to be parted
This is the place where the golden phoenix returns to rest
This is the place where the golden phoenix spreads her wings and soars
If the world shall give us a new name
then bestow upon us —
Phoenix Ancient Trees!
Interpretation
This poem takes the thousand-year-old ancient trees as silent witnesses and the phoenix as a symbol of light and rebirth. It speaks of the deepest bond between human and nature, and writes of waiting, guardianship and faith across time. This is the guardianship of life to life, the call of soul to soul, a great love that transcends race, borders and time.
May this pure deep feeling from the East by poet Lan Xin awaken the truest kindness and peace in the world and let love and light shine upon all humanity.
The first memory was of a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey pin, blue and white, just the outline of the leaf if I remember correctly. And there was another one, circular with a blue background and a white leaf, again, if I recall correctly. This was all practically another lifetime ago, the late 1970’s and early to maybe middle 1980’s. I liked those pins, and some had a safety pin type apparatus at the back while others had a straight metal part that one put a clip or metal end on.
A few times my cousin and I walked to one of the convenience stores and bought a pin or two. I can see in the mind’s eye the other NHL teams, smart and well-made pins, twenty-one teams then. I recall The Philadelphia Flyers one, The Washington Capitals, those two especially for some reason. And there was another All Stars one, maybe designating the NHL all-star game held once a year, I think.
Later, having achieved the highest level for my age group, Major, also called AAA, the teams I played for, Mississauga Blackhawks, Wexford Raiders, and Toronto Red Wings, went on numerous tournaments. Sometimes the organizations gave each player a bunch of pins to trade with the other teams. I’d end up with many pins from all over. I put them on cloth, a few cloths in fact, for safe keeping. These cloths with all kinds of hockey pins I had for a long time but have misplaced them. Sadly, I don’t know where they went.
The hockey pins represented sport and skill, of the heroes and greats, and later of my teams and travel and experience on the ice against all these teams. That was one level but there was a more simple and yet magical level also and it was the colour and style, the metallic feel and weight of the pin. They could go on jackets or sometimes trucker hats. I can’t remember what exactly made me remember the pins, but something somehow did. Maybe a dream. Maybe something in real life. Maybe some angel of sport or pin or an angel of time itself…
