New Voices Must Rise
An eloquent First Lady
in my City, an inspired woman
of Dignity and Grace, is now building
a Maritime Museum in our Harbor
to honor all the Diverse Refugees
who came to our Land and make it
the Nation we are Intended to Become.
She is building a West Coast Tribute, like the
Statue of Liberty does for the East Coast.
She once sent a message
through her daughter
about a poem I wrote.
"Never use the word 'must'."
she said. 'Must' is too pushy,
too controlling, too demanding,
not an invitation.
I am using the word 'must':
New Voices must Rise.
I need you to Rise.
We ALL need you to Rise.
Life cannot go on without you
unless you be fully you
and fully speak your piece
'til peace comes.
I feel pushy about this.
I need to hear what you have to say.
We need you to pass a Talking Stick
and sit in a Circle with us.
Please tell us how you feel.
We want your tears.
We want to hear your hurt, your wounds,
your stories, your anger, your loves, your Seed Dreams.
We want to hear what makes you proud:
Daughters who play Soccer for the fun
of it, who try their best, but feels it's o.k.
if the other team wins; your son who gets
"A's," and has brilliance inside him
that you as a Mom are here to nurture
through not pushing.
We want to love you for your joy.
We want to hear your laughter.
We want to stand by you, feel proud
along side you, make you dinner
when things are just too much
being a Mom all the time.
Thank you for being a Good Citizen,
for Caring, for Loving, for staying up
and doing good things to alert others
of Environmental Havoc because you feel possessed
to do so.
Thank yo for not giving up,
even though others imagine
that all the sensitivities you have
are something you made up
in your head with no cause.
Please be our President.
We need some feminine, grounded,
earthy, heartfelt leadership right now.
We would pay you a salary
but if truth be told,
We have no more money.
We are bankrupt,
bankrupt through hurting
other people with our smart bombs
and failure to understand
how people are meant to get along
even when they disagree.
We apologize to you.
We spent your money overseas.
Will you do the job anyway?
Please?
I'm sorry we have no more money
of our own that really is not borrowed.
We have I.O.U.'s out to China.
We have I.O.U's out to Japan.
They own us. We are afraid
to stand up and them them what we really think.
We gave our money to them in trade for
Toys R us and WalMart Goodies.
We thought Things would make
us happy. We are still sad.
The rest of our money--we need it
to fight Insurgencies because
Democracy is at stake in the world.
So here we are, waiting for you.
Guide with with gentle strength.
Remind us the meaning of
Real Family Values.
We are lost.
We are living here on this Blessed,
Most Beautiful Land, this land of Amazing
Grains. We no longer know how to boil water,
make a pot of rice, or sprout barley.
We have forgotten how to plant. We have forgotten
the natural Laws that make Life truly abundant.
We are here in this Highly Inspired Nation
of the People, by the People, for the People
but too many of us have been
sitting in the grandstands
watching TV and playing Games
that are no longer good for us.
We have been silent too long
We no longer believe.
We are not sure if our Votes
count anymore, or if the Man
who own the Voting Machines
determine the outcome of who takes office.
Some of us are not sure if 911
was a planned demolition by our
own Countrymen.
These ugly thoughts
make us dangerous to Life and Liberty.
It is easy to say
"Why bother? I can't
make a difference."
We are hanging in here waiting for you
fo show us a better way, to show us
simple ways and fresh inspiration.
You, you turned off your TV a long time ago.
I'm sad to say,
If you watch Prime Time
you will see something called
Reality Shows.
You will see what the Black Folk
in New Orleans see on TV:
TV that shows us it is O.k. to be friends and then stab
your best friend in the back.
The players in The Big Brother
House now reside on CBS,
and their Big Eye is very popular.
If you watch Prime Time,
you will see beautiful women
with blond hair and fair skin
sliding up to men who are Boy Toys.
The women want to be the Chosen One
to win $1 Million. They will do anything
to convince the Mr. Man to put
the other lovely women on the street.
The Man does this;
Then the 'loser' Ladies get paychecks
to make up for the indignity
of playing this Game.
At least the Losers can take a trip
to the Mardi Gras.
The Mardi Gras:
Please do not get me started.
Right now in that Once Upon a Time
Super Bowl City the Men in Power never knew what
to say to the Poor when they had the chance
to make things Right.
Then never knew what to do about the Homeless,
about the TV Reality Show Educated who are
Schooled by Prime Time and have nothing
else to do then Seethe
and raise up Global Warming with their
suppressed feelings of Injustice.
A whole generation of these TV Educated
Youth have never seen a milk cow.
They believe milk comes from the store
at the corner after Mom cashes the welfare check.
They had no cars to get out when they heard
Katrina was coming. They had no bus fare.
They hardly had toilet paper. They excited
the Saints to come marching in one more time.
These Poor, they have no idea how seeds grow
other than what happens when
a woman gets pregnant and someone
comes asking they work harder to support
the Kid. They have never seen peppermint,
they know not Aloe Vera for burns. These
are the stinking poor, the ones who
drink in our gas fumes as they fix our cars,
the ones we ask to burn their eyes out
with caustic agents as they keep our Vehicles moving
because we imagine Solar Power
would put Corps out of business.
No wonder the Poor do not want to work
if they can get a job.
Some part of them prefers not
to get the Cancer we are giving them
and I cannot blame them.
Our Men--their grammar school mates--
their friends of Color--
are fighting right now overseas to protect us.
Meanwhile, in New Orleans
we have an M.D. up to his heart in hospital
feces and dead bodies floating all around him.
No one, except you and I know he is there.
Our friends in the National Guard really
doing know what to do. "I mean do I need
armor for my vehicle before going in?
What is the name of this Mission?
Is this Desert Storm or Mississippi on the Loose?
Should I shoot to kill? Am i to rescue
somebody? How do I tell the 'Good' Guys
from the "Bad?" If I die, will I be called
a casuality of the the Irag War,
and who is in Charge here?"
Where is James? Where is Thomas?
I do not feel good about going in here
without Brothers.
Please, can you drop some leaflets over
Baghdad? Tell them it was a mistake.
We never meant to kill anyone. We are sorry.
Is it O.K. if we go home now because we
have a few little problems at home.
Can you spare us a dime for
a cup of coffee?
Osama, where are you?
Can you show me
how do deal with our own Insurgents?"
Through our High Tech, We can
identify within Centimeters where are enemy is over there.
We haven't a Clue how to save that trapped Doctor.
"How did I ever get here?" he is wondering.
"Is their no rescue coming?
What did I do to deserve this?"
Someone has been reading Dante's Inferno
and decided to give us all Hell in 3D:
There is a mother being pushed in
a wheelchair. She has a catheter
and is being rolled no where by daughters
screaming and yelling that their mother is dying
from thirst.
They have been screaming for years
A suburban social worker
who lives in Orange County tells me,
"Under the right conditions
I could have stuck a knife in my
ex-husband, the man who banged my
son's head against a sink.
Then he spent eight years saying
he never did that!"
A polite, sensitive, caring,
spiritual woman, a devoted mother,
she says at times she raged with seething anger
and could have murdered that Man.
That is what is going on now
in New Orleans.
Murder is happening.
People are wanting to get even.
They are stealing larger than life
Full screen Computers
and 65-inch State-of-the-Art
Monitors so they can be part of this Reality Show.
They want to know on a bigger screen
who the Bachelorette chooses.
They are mad they do not have
the money to buy the Pizza the commercial says is good.
The most organized Leaders
right now in New Orleans
are Thugs, Gangs made up
of the little boy down the street
who came home to an empty house
and never found his mother home.
His own father was yelling all the time.
Then he left for good.
That Little Boy is Big now.
He was out last night stealing ammo.
He wants the things I can buy
from the glass now broken store.
Even the police are making legal
the filling up of shopping carts;
they were stealing themselves.
"Help me! Help me!"
I have no water. I have not eaten
in days! I cannot see!
What Time it is? It is dark in here!
One day is like the next and the stench
of death is all around me.
I hear gun shots and young women are
screaming and getting their throats cut.
I almost got on a helicopter out of here,
but a bigger guy that looked like the Man
on TV pushed me to the floor
and got in line before me.
Please, help me.
Where are you!"
Where are you?"
In New York,
someone has the indignity
to interrupt the vacation
of another
Black Woman,
shopping for Chic Shoes
playing tennis with Monica Seles
enjoying a Broadway Show.
The person yelling asks our Secretary of State
to get back to work! She decides
maybe it is best to cut her fun short
and hop a plane back to Washington.
I am embarrassed.
I feel ashamed.
I am One with the starving person who throws a full milk
bottle at a Photo Man.
She does not want pictures taken
of her dead grandma stooped
against the wall of the Super Dome
a dead dog with flies nearby.
This goes beyond local
embarrassment.
THis goes beyond International
embarrassment.
This is a Universal Disgrace
and someone in Power is Taking Notes.
How did we get here?
Stop.
If you felt enpowered I know you would do things
differently, I am begging you, don't give up
Please speak up!
I will speak up too.
I will tell you what I am feeling.
"Please hold me.
I am scared. I feel alone right now
and very Little during this dark night.
I know that we will all Rise up together.
We must all Rise UP.
© 2005, Leslie Goldman,
Your Enchanted Gardener
10:56 AM
September 3, 2005
San Diego, California
Draft one
Corrections, 4:53 PM September 3, 05
Corrections, 5:45 AM September 4, 05
Information that inspired this poem
were down from
Editor and Publisher on Line:
THE HORROR WORSENS: Friday Pleas for Help from 'Times-Pic' Blog
http://www.editorandpublisher.com/eandp/news/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_...
Condi Returns to D.C. After Bloggers and 'Post' Expose Vacation
http://www.editorandpublisher.com/eandp/news/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_...
http://www.cbs.com/primetime/bigbrother4/
Dumping of U.S. Dollar Could trigger 'economic September 11'
http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/printpage/0,5942,16416680,00.html
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