Faces of the Bereft

Hilary Thomas

Today, we have this powerfully emotive poem from Hilary Thomas.  

 

Faces of the Bereft

 

They shot her in her home as she opened the door

then went and shot her nephew who slept in his bed. 

I was transfixed to this story in the news today,

No words could convey the depth of the pain I saw

in those faces, photos of an aftermath.

The aftermath of a shooting

Where mothers and sisters and daughters are left,

Bereft

Women, dressed in amber hues and royal blue African print

Protrude against a backdrop of black and white, ink.

Between the pages of stale adverts, the headlines

And bylines of stories that pop, and then

Die as the day progresses, but this,

This one will surely stain

The faces of mothers and daughters and sisters left,

Bereft

A crime scene of a story to freshly unfold.

Outside on the grass, where shoeless women

Who’s bodies contort with unimaginable pain, remain.

The lives of their loved ones taken by hate

The faces of mothers and sisters and daughters left,

Bereft

So many photographs, taken by a journalist

Determined, I guess, to do their bit.

The windows of an Estate; the building, now barred,

A solid line of police, their vans and yellow tape.

Their cold faces and straight backs, give nothing away.

The crime scene of a double murder, a serious case.

And the women are begging, perhaps, to see, to touch;

Just one last embrace.

The faces of mothers and daughters and sisters left,

Bereft

There’s a face that stands out, repeats in my mind.

I imagine her elegance and grace. Yet, it’s deep lines

I trace as I look at her face; shrivelled by loss,

I see her strong shoulders sink low, towards her buckled knees.

I trace her puffed up eyes and mascara stained tears, then

I surmise; hands in tight fists and arms around her belly pain

Her belly pain, a mother’s worst nightmare

A double blow for the sister of the auntie

She is drenched in death

Drowning in her innocence

The faces of mothers and daughters and sisters left,

Bereft

A crippling affliction has engulfed her today

Like a hell fire that burns and burns

It burns, and burns, no mercy no mercy

It burns into the chill, of the night.

Suffer the living, the ones that are left

For they are the ones that are left

bereft

© Hilary Thomas 2021

Hilary Thomas is a teacher and writer. She is a student at The City Literary Institute in London and has contributed her flash fiction to Late Lines, their monthly spoken word night. She has also written poetry for UK musician, Alfa Mist’s highly successful 2021 jazz/hip hop album, BringBacks. She is currently working on two debuts: a poetry anthology and her debut YA fiction novel.

Go here for readings from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence.  

Go here for NVC resources.  

Go here for more from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence 2021.  

 

When Will the Killing End?

Gloria Clark

Following her real-life tragedy, Gloria Clark's poem describes what happens in the aftermath of the killing of a chld. 

 

Another night of violence; another young life ends.

Another family crying; another vigil to attend.

Our sons are quickly dying, taken from us way to soon.

Their bodies being littered under twilight of the moon.

I hear a mother crying; sounds like thunder in my ears.

Oh how I wish I could comfort, and wipe away her tears.

Though her face I cannot see and her name remains unknown,

I find the need to let her know that she is not alone.

I feel a deep connection from the bottom of my soul,

For the pain she feels I also feel; my heart still bears the hole.

Our families have been broken, our spirits even more.

For we have lost our loved ones; the ones we so adored.

Can we ever find that happy place where we used to be?

Before young boys with guns and drugs attacked our city streets?

Do the colors that he’s wearing make you want to take his life?

Or are you simply angry and cannot deal with family strife?

Do you have a burning desire to feel the love our loved ones knew?

Where are your family values? Guess that’s missing in your life too!

Is the gang you’re in your haven? Does it take away your pain?

Does it make you feel significant? Is it your personal domain?

What can be done to end this war? When will the killing end?

We’re in a quandary, what can we do? All rational thoughts transcend.

It’s time to stop the violence; the shootings have to cease.

We have to learn to love one another and try to live in Peace.

Young men out there who find the need for a weapon to conceal,

Before you pull that trigger remember that body may never heal.

Life is a precious gift, given from the Lord above,

He gave us life to show us of his unfailing, undying love.

He died for us upon the cross and gave his only son,

That we will have the tree of life; He died and said, “It’s done”.

So stop the drugs and the killing and put the guns away,

Be smart learn to walk away to live another day.

 

            “This is the day that the lord has made;

                   Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

                              Psalm 118: 23-25

My youngest son was shot and killed in 2000 which prompted me to write a short story of the struggles I faced in trying to deal with his untimely death. The title of my short book is entitled When Half of Your Heart Dies. 

I am a retired bookkeeper from Buffalo, NY and I lived a happy, fruitful life being the mother of two sons and the grandmother of two granddaughters until the summer of 2000 when my youngest son Darian was shot and killed as he and friends were leaving a Social Club in our city. This is when my entire life changed and it will never be the same again.  

Go here for readings from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence.  

Go here for NVC resources.  

Go here for more from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence 2021.  

 

 

“It’s so important for white folx to transgress these rules around anger”

Check out this blog post from Ceri Buckmaster:  “It’s so important for white folx to transgress these rules around anger”.  

She says:  "It really struck me the importance of white people accessing anger and rage at the injustices that are happening and have happened.
​
"When white people aren’t accessing anger, it’s left to Black and Indigenous people and people of colour to do this work, which then leaves BIPOC labelled and judged as angry and reactive as a means of control and avoiding the issues".

What do you think?  Do white people need to access their anger about injustice?   Please comment below and please share this with your networks.  Thanks.  

Go here for readings from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence.  

Go here for NVC resources.  

Go here for more from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence 2021.

Lamentation 212, Verse 718 by Carla M. Cherry

Carla M. Cherry

I love this poem.  The more I read it, the more I love it.  It is heartbreaking, scary and beautiful.  

Lamentation 212, Verse 718 by Carla M. Cherry

 

Are you still moving to Texas after you retire, I asked.
“Nope,” my friend replied.
“I’m staying right here in NYC. At most, I’d go upstate. It’s the best place to be. Politically.
The weather isn’t too crazy, we don’t get hit with a lot of storms.”

Three weeks later, on Wednesday, September 1, 2021,
Ida whelmed Northeastern skies, sent rivers surging,
flooded our subway stations and streets, stranded more than 600 cars,
left a sinkhole in Morris Park and drowned eleven of us
in mostly illegal basement apartments.  

 

Friday.  My locs freshly done at the salon.
After lunch at Maxwell’s, I walked from 111th and Fifth Avenue
to my BXM7 stop on 120th and Third,
nodding to the hip-hop and salsa music from passing cars,
past congregations on stoops, schools,
La Marqueta and shoppers along 116th,
politely declining and wishing God’s blessings
on two hawkers of $2 Metrocards
as I deposited $60 on mine
with my pretax-earnings-funded Commuter Benefits Mastercard,
failing in Spanish to explain to the woman who stopped me
that the 6 train was not coming.  

 

Shook my head at the single-use plastic bags from bodegas and
plastic containers from fast food joints littering the streets,
and dodged secondhand cigarette smoke.
Hotstepped six feet away from
the stiffened carcass of a gray rat
on East 119th between Second and Third.  

I wrote two notes to myself in my cell phone:   
one to write to my councilman and the Mayor to demand more funds for the Sanitation Department so that every street is as clean as Park Avenue below 96th,
and the resuscitation of Grow NYC and the Zero Waste Initiative.
The other, to buy bamboo toilet paper and paper towels and Tru Earth laundry strips.  

It just can’t be too late for us to slow the Gulf Stream and sea level rise
with laws curtailing corporate carbon emissions.
To restore the marshlands.
Build flood walls and permeable pavement.
Convert empty office buildings into eco-friendly apartments with terraced and rooftop gardens, first for the unhoused and people living in substandard conditions.
Transform those silent lobbies into ground-floor food markets selling locally grown produce
and sustainably produced home goods.
To ride state-of-the-art public transit and bicycles.
Replace our gasoline fueled cars with hybrid vehicles.

Should managed retreat become necessary, my heart
may dissolve like soil in a mudslide
without the sidewalks where I skipped hopscotch and double-dutch.
The honey locust trees and lampposts that were bases for tag,
my thirteenth floor view of Goose Island, gulls skimming the surface of the bay
that shimmers in sunlight and moonlight, and Pelham Bay Park.
My walks across the bridge to the soft sands of Orchard Beach
and views of Long Island Sound on City Island.

How far would I have to go
for Atlantic waves that knock me off my feet 

Go here for readings from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence, including another poem by Carla M. Cherry. 

Go here for details of more poetry by Carla M. Cherry.  

Go here for NVC resources.  

Go here for more from the Blogging Carnival for Nonviolence 2021. 

Geniuses of Transformation: Wisdom from Harriet Tubman

Harriet Tubman has always been an inspiration for me since I was a young child. Having escaped from slavery, she risked her life over and over again to help emancipate others. They called her Moses and sang “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” whenever she arrived intent on helping more to escape.

Tubman returned to the South 19 times to help others escape from the plantation. 

Two of my favourite inspiring quotes from Harriet Tubman are: 

• Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.  

• Don’t ever stop. Keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.

For more Harriet Tubman quotes, go here to download Treasures of the Geniuses of Transformation.  

Go here for more from the Geniuses of Transformation.  

Go here for more Black history blogs. 

Plus go here for my short film, Harriet, which depicts an imaginary meeting between Harriet Jacobs and Harriet Tubman.   

Whos your favourite Black hero or shero?  Please leave your comments below and please share this with your networks.  Thanks.  

 

Geniuses of Transformation: Wisdom from Nelson Mandela

Today, I am celebrating the great activist and first elected President of South Africa Nelson Mandela.  

Nelson Mandela spent over 27 years in prison as a result of his opposition to apartheid in South Africa.  The apartheid regime hoped the world would forget Mandela, but his wife, Winnie Mandela, along with other anti-apartheid activists, kept his memory alive as a global symbol of anti-apartheid. 

At a time when white extremists were threatening to blow up South Africa rather than put an end to apartheid, Mandela managed to win their respect while maintaining his commitment to democracy and equality.  He even won the respect of his jailers.  

And although it looked as though apartheid would only end in armed struggle, with blood flowing in the streets, Mandela managed a smooth and bloodless transition to democracy, inspiring people all over the world.  

Here are two of my favourite quotes from Nelson Mandela:  

• It always seems impossible until it's done. 

• No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.

For more inspiring quotations by Mandela and other great leaders, go here to download Treasures of the Geniuses of Transformation.  

Go here for more from the Geniuses of Transformation. 

Go here for more African history blogs.  

Go here for African history quizzes and more.  

Who is your favourite Black/African hero?  Please post below and please share.  Thanks.