November Senryū ~ 2013

November Senryū

 2013

mizquitl tree | her place to sit | write letters to the future

this morning I wake | hearing jazz from your last room | know you are here

cuando dice un beso | siento miles | por todo el cuerpo

for survival | The People danced | all evil away

untangle this mess | we've made of Turtle Island | for children’s future

dance the balance | dance back clouds and rain |dance dance dance

we pray for the world | we are tiny bits of light | in the mother's web | 

born powerful in word | our deeds should be for right 

Georgia we miss you | secret smiles tucked in brush strokes | what a legacy

though innocent | our babies learn early | they are presumed guilty

sometimes praying | for loss of ones who've not loved | enough to deserve us

frosty autumn moon | full winter forecast | icy wind her companion

crows calling warnings | telling cars to quiet down | listen to the wind | 

they say on the avenue | we so need to free ourselves

we traded places | you love my Great Lake city | I fell for the Bay

in the thickest rind of night | when moon-void-of-course | sky a thick inky soup | 

she dances in the dark | wanting loved ones to return

a bigger purpose | our lives a journey to live | leave a legacy

your mighty voices | the sea's roar crying out | for all those now silenced 

they void green worlds |turn them sacrifice zones | non-places where rivers burn

sand paper scorched | heart bleeding for a sure loss | mind guilty of hope

we are born and sprout | grow into lanky wild weeds | then one day we go | 

with luck we sent out shoots | that bloomed brilliant as the stars

mornings I hear her | voice muffled through glass calling | I'm still here on the path | 

of a destiny foretold | zigzagging trouble

mother tree a legacy | elders passing life |to the next of kin 

death leaves a hole | we try to fill with living | and love an answer

misunderstanding | heartache wanting to be healed | when words aren't enough

smooth wooden boxes | relics from days before | cardboard became home

she is from this place | her blood mixed with rainwater | red earth in her skin

puny in comparison | to that which rises | a natural son | 

or stardust and light daughters | not needful of false fingers

she flies away | always returns home | to her city by the bay

our ancestors die | pass away into the light | in time we follow

Copyright © 2013 Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved.

In Not So Sleepy Towns, With or Without Lagoons ~

                        2


What are we to think, of ignorance ...
We Indians, like anyone
Must defend from people so dumb.
Is it just plain belligerence,
Or a deeply sick intolerance
For all of us who are "other".
When they came, we called them brother,
Their plan: gold, land, and genocide
Too late, our ancestors recognized
The killers they later discovered.

Racial profiling and discrimination was so prevalent that in an excerpt from the Sleepy Lagoon Murder Trial, the director of the Los Angeles Sheriff's Department, E. Duran Ayres stated, in his testimony before the Grand Jury, "Mexican-Americans are genetically predisposed to violence because they are descended from Mayan Indians".   (The Court of Appeals Case, People v. Zamora, 1944)

In Not So Sleepy Towns, With or Without Lagoons ~

                      ✿


In a city, that was once called
Nuestra Señora de Los Angeles
Our Lady of the Angels
Racial profiling? We're appalled! 


                    1


Racial profiling America
To stop young, red, yellow, black, and brown
Same racism, so many towns
From New York, down to Florida
The racist South, to Nazizona
Aqui estamos, no nos vamos
You won't hear us saying, adios
Our ancestors hearts, buried here
This land to us is just as dear
Democracy? Not even close!

Intro to Water Woman ~

                      ✿


This is a story of a long life
Of a woman who flew far away
From a home full of sadness and strife
There, where she learned how to survive ~

Water Woman ~

                       5

She was born a water woman

With oceans and rivers on her side

From strife and hate, she learned to stem tides

Mother to many, hate towards no one

Far from perfect, she got her work done

Learned 'bout injustice as a young child

It plagued her family, something wild

Ugly outside life, it seeped right in

She learned sadness early, from her kin

But she set out to change that sad style

Water Woman ~

                            3


She found people who felt the same
Who wanted a world for the better
Committed to the people, forever 
To struggle for justice and for change
for the positive, for the estranged.
It was a dream, for the masses  
From Dr. King to Cesar Chávez.
Many say that dream's been deferred
She believes the dream's just been blurred
With our young, it's rising from the ashes.

Water Woman ~

                       2


A water woman has to cry.
The world is a hard place when your poor, 
Worse, once you walk out your mama's door.
The state of life went straight to her eyes
And cry she would, and always ask, why?
Why is this world so cruel and mean,
Can't people love, not hate and scheme.
She'd always thought she was on her own
But out here people were hard as stone.
Then one day, the world got a new sheen...

Water Woman ~

     
                  1


She was born a water woman
with only red earth in her chart
A life map with tones deep as her heart
So lonesome since her life began
She watched as the days, months and years ran
Always with a plan for her escape
On that day she walked into her fate
While crying the loss of her siblings
In the background freedom bells ringing
Though life was hard, she was no mistake.

© Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2012

Letting Love Be

She refuses to be chained down
Being married is not the same
as just trading your family name
It's a commitment, not a crown
He listens quiet but wears a frown
She explains, you can lose what's yours
No fear, I ask for love, nothing more
I'll always return from my journeys 
Know I am yours for eternity 
She kisses him and walks out the door.

© Odilia Galván Rodríguez

Mama Luna

Grandma Luna would hold my hand
all the way home from school
when we'd pass through the lush
green forest she would say esto es el corazon
del mundo/this is the heart of the
world she taught me the earth ways
about the trees that talk if you listen
of the plants who are our allies
who heal us and the creation when
we are ill

in the forests and in the jungles
we can find the answers
all the remedios for what ails us
physically mentally and spiritually
but we must be humble for what stunts
the spiritual guerriller@'s growth is pride
and all that comes with self aggrandizement
greed is worst of all but what did I know
at seven about greed

Mama Luna was a slight women barely five feet
tall and less than ninety pounds but she was strong
the people of the surrounding ranches feared and adored her
some called her bruja/witch out of ignorance or what the
church teaches which is mixed up with fear of people taking
their own power and not being afraid to live fully lest
they die

she would say there is no devil only evil people
who hurt and want others to hurt as much or worse
those are the ones we must watch out for and they
are sly as foxes people who smile in your face
the worst enemies are usually old friends remember that
child and I would but my good heart would make
me go soft so often and that is where the hard lessons
would have to be learned again and again

Mama Luna was the first person people would come and find
when a baby was about to be born or someone was sick even
when a colt or calf was trying to be born turned in the
wrong direction she could set bones and massage sprains
she even put people's brains straight by counseling them
in low hushed tones soothing their madness

she taught me about the plant allies how one must sing
to them and leave offerings while asking for permission
to take some of them back home to help heal ourselves or
others plants want respect
as does the whole creation we must only take what we need
and more is not better the essence is sacred

she loved wild horses her prized bees that gave sweet
honey because she sung to them too her dogs where good
they knew who to let on the property and who to hold
at the gates her black dog Oso was the fiercest of all
the one who was always with her

Mama Luna you guide my hands as I write these words
I miss you and at the same time know you are in my
heart ~ siempre...

Graffiti

for Hawk

He was seven then
when we visited South Dakota
together for the very first time
he had been on planes before
but on this trip he realized
it might be a dangerous
ride

that despite his name
people really couldn't fly
and what goes up eventually
must come down and we were
up very high as he noticed
while asking nervously
if those were clouds
below us as he stared out the
plane's window but that worry
passed quickly he was more
concerned with finding Michaelangelo
his teenage mutant ninja turtle
that he hadn't seen since we'd
had a bite to eat in the airport
cafe

he asked me again if I thought there
would be graffiti in the town we were
going I said there probably wasn't too much
on the rez but maybe some in
Rapid City we would be staying there for a day
or two before going on to the Sun Dance
he said he wanted to see what kind
of graffiti, they had in other towns
besides Berkeley and Oakland

Michaelangelo mysteriously turned up
in the trunk of the rental car as we were
taking out our bags at the motel
he kept looking around for the writing on walls
of that cowboy city but I couldn't spot any either

that night as we were reading a bedtime story
he stopped and asked mom do you think there
is no graffiti because there are mostly old people
living here and I said no I think it's probably
because they have strict laws against it and
young people are scared of what will happen
if they are caught doing it

he looked at me confused as if street art were the
most natural thing in the world and why would
anyone be punished for expressing themselves
in this way and then said they would go to jail
I said yes I think so

the next morning we visited a few shops and
the local amusement park with a Flinstone theme
in the afternoon we were scheduled to visit Mount
Rushmore so at lunch I explained about the
The Black Hills and how sacred they are to the Lakota
people and how we should take the camera because
we might see some eagles on the way he fell asleep
and I kept feeling like there was something I had
forgotten to say about our trip and I worried about
him being so small with just me to be everything to him
he woke up just as we pulled into the parking lot
at Mount Rushmore, he was still a little sleepy as we
walked along to get up to the place where one views
the monument. He held my hand tight and I said
look there, that's what they did to the Black Hills
he looked and looked and was very quiet
I thought he must still be very sleepy from his
nap

he suddenly pulled me close looked up at me and
said in a solemn voice, "mom, mom those are the Black Hills"
and pointing at the monument he said,
"that is the white man's graffiti".

©/s Odilia Galvan Rodriguez, 2008