Sand Opera
Lenten Journey Day 32: Mirroring the Mirrors of the Universe (Hung Lyres + Fady
Joudah’s “Mimesis”)
Let the
little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these
that the kingdom of heaven belongs.
--The
Gospel of Matthew 19:14
I can’t tell
you how many times my daughters have been teachers to me. Yesterday’s poem
showed Adele talking back to the radio (about some politician’s or journalist’s
pronunciation of Iraq—it’s “ear rock,” not “eye rack”). She was
mirroring myself back to me, mirroring my own mirroring. But it’s more than
that—my daughters teach me primal wonder. Every child is a philosopher and a
poet, of course. Within three consecutive “why” questions, every five-year-old
reaches toward the great mysteries of the universe. Some of Adele’s questions
pepper the “Hung Lyres” poem, as well as her answer to what peace might be. I
couldn’t help but think of my friend Fady Joudah’s tender poem “Mimesis,” about
his daughter’s refusal to break the web of a spider who had nested between the handlebars
of her bike.
From “Hung
Lyres” (Sand Opera)
@
What does it
mean, I say. She says, it means
to be quiet,
just by yourself. She says, there’s
a treasure
chest inside. You get to dig it out.
Somehow, it’s
spring. Says, will it always
rain? In some
countries, I say, they are
praying for
rain. She asks, why do birds sing?
In the dream,
my notebook dipped in water,
all the writing
lost. Says, read the story again.
But which one? That
which diverts the mind
is poetry. Says,
you know those planes
that hit those
buildings? Asks, why do birds sing?
When the storm
ends, she stops, holds her hands
together,
closes her eyes. What are you doing?
I’m praying for
the dead worms. Says, listen:
Mimesis by
Fady Joudah
My daughter
wouldn’t hurt a spider
That had nested
Between her
bicycle handles
For two weeks
She waited
Until it left
of its own accord
If you tear
down the web I said
It will simply
know
This isn’t a
place to call home
And you’d get
to go biking
She said that’s
how others
Become refugees
isn’t it?
-- Fady Joudah is a Palestinian American
physician, poet, and translator. The son of Palestinian refugees, poet Fady
Joudah was born in Austin, Texas, and grew up in Libya and Saudi Arabia. Joudah’s
debut collection of poetry, The
Earth in the Attic (2008), won the 2007 Yale Series of Younger Poets
competition and was a finalist for ForeWord’s Book of the Year Award. Joudah
followed his second book of poetry is Alight (2013) with Textu (2014),
a collection of poems written on a cell phone that are exactly 160 characters
long. Joudah translated the final three collections of Palestinian poet Mahmoud
Darwish’s work in The Butterfly’s Burden (2006), which won Banipal prize from
the UK and was a finalist for the PEN Award for Poetry in Translation. His
translation of Ghassan Zaqtan's Like a Straw Bird It Follows Me (2012)
won the Griffin International Poetry Prize in 2013.
2 comments:
Two beautiful poems. Read Sand Opera and found your blog through my friend, poet Patricia Hartnett.
Carol, thanks for touching base and reading!
Peace, Phil
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