Wednesday, August 2, 2017

WE ARE STILL HERE By Mary Canty Merrill, Ph.D

WE ARE STILL HERE
By Mary Canty Merrill, Ph.D.
Black people have been through many traumatic experiences. Our hearts have been cut deeply. Our minds have been twisted. Our bodies have been abused. Yet, despite all that we have been through, and though we may be weary at times, we are still here.
We were kidnapped from our native land—Mother Africa, yet we are still here.
We were shackled in chains, and crammed into the bowels of ships headed for the New World, yet we are still here.
We were forced to sail for weeks, months—and sometimes a year—amid inhumane and diseased conditions, yet we are still here.
We were torn from our families and loved ones, yet we are still here.
We were sold into slavery as property, yet we are still here.
We were raped and sexually abused by slaveholders, yet we are still here.
We were hung and brutally whipped, yet we are still here.
We were branded and mutilated, yet we are still here.
We were hunted down like wild animals, yet we are still here.
We were imprisoned for minor infractions—or no infractions at all—without legal defense or recourse, yet we are still here.
We were spat on, tormented and insulted, yet we are still here.
We were forced into hard labor from sunup to sundown, yet we are still here.
We were devalued as human beings, yet we are still here.
We were used as prizes in lotteries, yet we are still here.
We were used as wagers in card games and horse races, yet we are still here.
We were allotted the bare minimum of food, yet we are still here.
We were given the cast-off clothing of whites, yet we are still here.
We were abused and exploited through medical experimentation, yet we are still here.
We were provided no care for our health, yet we are still here.
We were placed in situations that jeopardized our well-being, yet we are still here.
We were forbidden to buy or sell goods without a permit, yet we are still here.
We were forbidden to own livestock, yet we are still here.
We were subject to nightly curfews, yet we are still here.
We were forced to live in meager shelter with leaky roofs, thin walls and dirt floors, yet we are still here.
We were forbidden to read and write, yet we are still here.
We were forbidden to marry outside of our race, and sometimes forbidden to marry at all, yet we are still here.
We were coerced into nursing white babies, yet we are still here.
We were treated harshly by cruel overseers and made an example to others, yet we are still here.
We were stripped of our freedom, yet we are still here.
We were in physical bondage for 300 years, yet we are still here.
We were subjected to a hard, miserable life that is now difficult to imagine, yet we are still here.
We possessed nothing except our dignity, yet we are still here.
We were forced into segregation, yet we are still here.
We were bitten by vicious dogs, attacked with tear gas and sprayed with fire hoses, yet we are still here.
We were searched at any time and for any reason, yet we are still here.
We were sharecroppers who were cheated and denied land ownership, yet we are still here.
We were robbed of our heritage, history and resources, yet we are still here.
We were denied our constitutional rights, yet we are still here.
We are subject to racial profiling, yet we are still here.
We have been forced into mass incarceration, yet we are still here.
We are still considered an inferior race, yet we are still here.
We have endured modern day genocide, yet we are still here.
We built this country called America with our blood, sweat, and tears, yet we are still here.
We have endured hundreds of years of racism, discrimination and oppression, yet despite everything that we have been through, we are still here.
WE ARE A STRONG, RESILIENT AND NOBLE PEOPLE… AND WE ARE STILL HERE!

Monday, April 24, 2017

IN MEMORIAM TOTEN TANZ Dedicated to those who died and those who survive ...


IN MEMORIAM TOTEN TANZ  
By Celine Leduc edited by Norman Simon  April 2017 

Annie and Anita were friends
German Jewish, the other Christian
They joked: We are Judeo-Christians
They shared a passion the arts.
One a dancer, the other a percussionist
Yes, they complemented each other.

Religion united them: they celebrated
Hanukah/Christmas - the light that guides
Passover/Easter - Freedom from slavery
Little did they know they would be slaves.
They would be hunted as killers and traitors.

Politics made them enemies
They disobeyed --- they were friends.
Politicians said:  The Jews killed Jesus
Politicians acted and KILLED Jews

Religious leaders: ministers and priests
Preached, "Hate Jews," they killed Jesus.
Rabbis believed they would be safe
They reminded everyone, "We are German.
Germans are good people. We are friends.
The madness will pass --- have faith."


A knock at the door, a broken door
Houses searched, people rounded up
A suitcase packed in a hurry.
In a truck, bringing them to a train.
People displaced sent to a CAMP.

Annie and Anita decided to leave.
Fake exit cards - forged documents
From Berlin to Amsterdam
To freedom we will drive and walk.

They wait till night to cross
Check the patrols, the border guards
Snow on the ground, it is cold!
The hearts of the guards are cold
Anita says, “Go, I will follow.”

Annie runs, crosses to safety.

Anita starts to cross
She is spotted by a border guard
One shot resonates Annie falls
Anita runs back They are caught
Thrown in a truck – destination DEATH

The music has died
The dance macabre starts
Anita dances a solo : Toten Tanz
The dance of death.


Monday, April 17, 2017

No automatic alt text available.
get well card

a girl was battered
sometimes by her angry mother with the father’s belt,
but because mother said to,
most often her father swung that leather strip
or his hand,
while he said,
“look at me when i talk to you.
don’t look at me like that.”
or he’d ask,
“what are you crying for? i’ll give you something to cry for,”
“don’t you feel it? i’ll make you feel it,”
then he’d hit again.
again.
and the girl hugged herself and tried not to cry too much or too little
saying in her mind, “not your fault.
remember they used to love you.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”

a young woman was declared tramp and evicted
by her landlady
when she respectfully, privately
requested that the older woman tell the elder's father
to please keep his strange words,
and his hands
off.
so the young woman walked along the treed, nighttime road
with cases and purse in arms and wept silently
while strangers stared
thinking to herself, “not your fault.
they are sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”

an at-home-alone daughter was raped
by a drunken neighbour
who chastised her sin,
so she reclused to her room
and watched the door,
for months.
till one evening she whispered her shame,
and her mother recradled the girl in arms and wept with her,
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”

a ‘with-child’ woman was pounded
by a stranger who threw his jacket over her head
on a downtown street,
beaten as he shrieked, “bitch! bitch!”
and later her sister held the woman in her arms and wept with her
saying, “not your fault.
his mind is sick.
try to forgive.
try.
it’s not
your
fault.”

how many more
we belted girls?
we tormented women?
we raped daughters?
we pounded mothers?
before we all walk together
and need no longer cry, “not our fault.
it's the violence-borne society,
the violence-porne society,
the violence-torn society,
that is sick.
it’s not
our
fault.”

no more,
Creator, please.
no more,
now.
we
walk
together
now.

~ manidoonaateshing-ikwe / phylmarie

If you wish to share, I give permission. If you wish to share without photo, I give permission, but to preserve layout, copy and paste the whole honour song poem from title to signature line end. Miigwech / Thank you, for passing on the message in defense of girls and women.