This week's Poet of the People is Lisa Spears. I first met Lisa at Aiken County Library for Art of Words. Her poetry blew me away. Since then, she has featured at Mind Gravy and I have heard her read in Charleston; I am hungry for more.
She teaches English to marginalized high school students in Charleston; her book, Releasing Birds, is must read material for those who have triumphed over the trauma of living - "At first, it felt sinful"
-Al Black
Lisa Spears is a poet who resides in Charleston, SC. Her debut book, Releasing Birds came out earlier this year. It is written in memoir fashion–giving a personal testimony to her journey and healing from traumatic experiences. Often images from her work are stark, yet painfully beautiful. Spears moved to Charleston from the Midwest to follow her dream of writing while living by the ocean. She also teaches high school English to students experiencing trauma. She can be reached at Follypoet63@gmail.com
Hope to the Brim
When grief for the world assails me,
and words avail me none,
and rockets rain in succession in day blind wars
and the amputee and the orphans cry
and a lone woman pushes the grocery cart filled with a home,
and there’s a bad accident on I-78
and an Aunt Ida is ill,
and the family cat ran away,
And all hope is at the bottom of the barrel,
I must cleave hope to remain
steadfast and standing
in my heart’s recall for,
Somewhere a baker is whistling to the day’s fresh start,
and geese are flying south,
and a boy is rejoicing to ride a two wheel bike,
and a sliver of light passes through the curtain,
and a toddler dances with a kite and they are twirling,
and seagulls frame the beach
and a grandpa baits the hook,
and sheets dry on the line,
and a child makes a wish with a dandelion flower,
and a niece is in remission,
and fall leaves keep falling,
and wild horses run so free,
and Morning Glories frame a white front porch,
and church bells ring come Sunday morn’,
and the people thereof keep on singing
,
And they keep singing,
I keep singing,
we keep singing,
until we know the words again,
filling hope to the brim,
And the cat came home.
Somewhere, the cat is home.
“ Adverbial Pause”
Another boy was murdered by another boy
today, I got the news
when the principal calls
at six p.m.
on a Saturday
it’s never good at my school.
Where they share lunch
and high fives and still love
when I bring candy.
Now, I can’t teach them about adverbs
how splendidly, gleefully, beautiful
it could have been
to turn sixteen.
“The Crossing (Yam Suph & Almamanu)”
Jewish and Arabic translation
Deir-al-Balah used to glitter by the sea
there among palms
families sang songs
a fisherman could hear
upon the water
Today, for a son
the house a hollow tomb
to hold his Um (mother)
The boy will go now
on the far side of land
to find Ab (father)
at the line drawn in the sand
Following the rockets by night
a myriad of faces
eclipse in shuttered flame
A piece of bread
for a child
with no name
Slipping past soldiers
towering like false gods
At dawn he runs
to the great divide.
There a girl is weeping
for a bright, blue dress
Bobbe (grandmother) she cries
Beyond the expanse
there is no sky
He reaches her hand
across the world
of every side
Herein lies a Holy Land.