Tag Archive: voice


darkness

incohate rage
everything smash up
wordless shaking
unblinking stare into the abyss
of darkness that has swallowed you
falling

he only has the power that you give
him…     him…     him…
the words fall into silence unheard

Talitha Fraser

Listen

I lost my voice again today.
Not from shouting too much.
No… more mute than that, more fut- (I’ll)

repress, supress to impress you
and make you feel good about yourself
as I diminish. Finish saying nothing because…

I lost my voice again today
it was not drowned out
indeed it rarely swims
being afraid of the water
undercurrents
submerged logs
stagnant bogs
blank blog
page
empty of hope and dreams.

I lost my voice again today.
Thoughts are teeming through my mind but
my feelings make my tongue numb
I want to get them out
but I doubt
myself and you move on
to your next (point)
out to me my flaws, their cause, no pause for understanding.
I want to do work of worth, birth something beautiful together but
you are so protective of the turf there might as well be a “Keep Off The Grass” sign out (front)

up, make me an offer, negotiate, my way or the highway
that does not head in the direction I want to go.

I lost my voice again today.
I was looking for what was true, went via your agenda, don’t make this about my gender.
Except, of course, that it is.
Lord, why am I still here?
Why do I care?
The words of an individual
indivisible from their meaning
gleaning, glistening
purity out of obscurity
my truth…
Listen.
This is my truth.

This is my whole truth.

Inspired by the poetry of Joel McKerrow and Stevie Wills at Surrender and resident poet at the City Library this month Alia Gabrez, Centre for Poetics and Justice (by Talitha Fraser)

I will tell you something about stories
[he said]
They aren’t just entertainment
Don’t be fooled.
They are all we have you see.
All we have to fight off illness and death.

You don’t have anything if
you don’t have stories.
Their evil is mighty
but it can’t stand up to our stories.
So they try to destroy the stories.
Let the stories be confused or forgotten.
They would like that…
Because we would be defenceless then…

Leslie Marmon Silco – Ceremony

Stories are all we have – the hermeneutic approach of the Bartimaeus Institute.

Native Americans make storytelling dolls out of pottery – collecting the clay is a spiritual and mindful process, native plants and minerals are used for the colours and designs, shaped and smoothed by hand, sanded, slip coats applied and then hand polished – a lengthy and involved process.  These beautiful artworks generally depict an elder with children in their lap,  honouring the oral tradition of the culture, validating the importance of each persons voice in family/community and the importance of the role of storytellers in society for keeping awareness alive.

MLK once said: the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.  That is to say that we need to draw on the wisdom of tradition, history and our elders to better understand ourselves and the world in which we live.

John 1:18 No one has ever seen God.  It is the Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made God known (Greek: exegesato) – Jesus ‘decodes’ gives meaning to God.

Luke 10:25-30, 36f
A) What must I do to inherit eternal life?
B) What’s written in the Torah? How do you read it?
C) Love the Lord your God
D) Given right answer. Do this.
E) Who is my nieghbour?
F) Who was neighbour to the robbed man?
G) One who showed mercy.
H) Go and do it.

3 disciplines of interpretation: what stands? how do we read it? what do we do with it?

Who around you has stories you could be learning from?  Are you making space to hear them?
If you live a life trying to be like Jesus, what are the ways in which your life points to or gives meaning to God?
What ways does what you read influence/affect praxis in your life?

We need wisdom that is older, wider, deeper than we are – sacred stories provide that.  Listening to the old stories needs to be central to any expression of faith that is related to transformation. We need to have a practise of returning to the well of imagination.

the sweet

the sweet

still

voice of the lord

says

“I love you”

into the turbulence of my mind.

the Creator Spirit

cradles me and croons

it in my ear

“I love you”.

she sneaks up on me

from time to time

puts it out there quickly

“I love you”

and darts away.

 

I hear her

but somehow the Voice

doesn’t reach

the cold places of my heart

and I cannot believe it.