Black History Month | Event: “Lift Every Voice” (Feb. 27th, 6PM CET)

Image by John Cabot University

I am honoured to have been asked to participate in John Cabot University’s Black History Month 2021 celebration. Many sincere thanks to Alexandria J. Maloney for inviting me to join her esteemed panelists in this discussion on our experiences living and studying in Rome.

Please, join our discussion . You can register by using the following link: Event Registration.

This morning I woke up

This morning I woke up. The sounds of the day seeped through my rain-streaked windows. My body, chilled by perimenopausal night sweats, ached. I am used to discomfort.

This morning I woke up. And a thought came while I was busying myself, making my bed, shelving books and listening to the ding of my phone:

what if this is it?

If we make it through arduous task of materializing our existence and passing through the narrow canal of our mothers, we say to this world,

“I am here.”

For some who come to meet us, our arrival is enough. That we are here. That we made the journey safely is enough.

“You are here.”

I woke up this morning, you see. I glanced at social media, which tries to inform me that my life should be valued by percentages of views.

Your views are up 5% from yesterday. Your views are down -17% from last week.

I wonder when it begins, this messaging that what you do and…

You are not enough.

Is it the silent thought burning in hearts and minds of some of those who come to greet us on our first day in this world?

Is it in comparisons heard at home and school as we move through childhood?

Is it now at work?

It’s still morning. And, as I wrote, I woke up, perhaps again. I wondered, what if this life that I have lived and am living were my entirety.

Is it enough?

It is. And it isn’t.

There is much that I would still like to do while I am here. Still, I am done with having to prove my value. I have arrived at this point, without uncertainty:

I am here. I am enough.

Poetry | La Pioggia

Photo by M. Rajabi, Unsplash

“La Pioggia”
Stamattina, nella tranquilità dell’alba,
mi sono svegliata.
Non potevo più sentire
la tua voce,
solo le gocce di pioggia
sulla finestra
ed il suono del mio respiro.
Le mie mani toccavano
lo spazio vuoto accanto a me.
Ho provato l’euforia
di essere libera…
di essere senza di te.

Si trova la pace nel silenzio
del cuore.
Domani e dopodomani,
il mio mondo è ancora mio.
Posso crearlo come desidero.

Comunque,
stamattina ancora ti pensavo.

– D.

Poetry | Trying #Tanka #Poetry Form

春風が吹く。髪が白くなる。季節を数えることをやめなさい。

The wind tells of spring. My hair is becoming white. This season and next season, I keep on counting. I really ought to stop now.

5/7/5/7/7 Style

The wind tells of spring. 

My hair is becoming white. 

This season and next 

season, I keep on counting.

I really ought to stop now.

Poetry | On Language Learning & Negativity

Itako, Japan

On Language Learning & Negativity.

Listen to me.
Like a child,
my words are misspoken
and my grammar is broken.
But, listen to me anyway.

Hear my words
because they have meaning
and create a connection
between you and me.

I am building a bridge
with a language that isn’t my own.
Won’t you help me?
Or, at least, not demean me?

That I speak your language
in broken sentences
and accented words,
what does it matter?

I am trying to build a bridge,
many bridges, in fact.
I am trying to understand
the world around me,
even if you don’t want
to understand me.

Poetry | RonovanWrites Decima #Poetry Challenge #43 Spring in the A line

Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge Prompt No. 43: (SPRING) in the A rhyme line.

Hitachi Seaside Park

Step counting

The steps you’re counting while shouting

but standing still… I’m at a loss.

Yes, this distance grows…at a cost.

Summer then fall, winter now spring–

to your words, I’m not listening.

You’ve become a…well, never mind.

I’m walking, not falling behind,

away from what I’ve only known

that love doesn’t have to be shown–

that’s your lie. My truth I will find.

From RonovanWrites:

THE QUICK DESCRIPTION OF HOW TO WRITE A DÉCIMA:

There are 10 lines of poetry that rhyme.
8 syllables per line.
There is a SET RHYMING PATTERN we must stick to. ABBAACCDDC OR two stanzas of ABBA/ACCDDC.

Poetry | RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt Challenge #343 Full & Bare

Winter tree

Slow winter morning,

pass leafless tree, cut branches,

waiting to begin.

2.

Dried sweet potatoes,

so many–my bag is full.

Eating, hands shiver.

3.

My bare skin now lined

like a map of Tokyo–

spring, summer, now fall.

4.

I will go home now.

A morning walk without snow,

yet frozen flowers.

SoCS & #JusJoJan 2021 Daily Prompt – Jan. 30th| The Beginning, The End

In the end

I knew what I needed

to do to move forward–

and

that is really all that matters.

Now I only need to step across

the beginning

of my new path.

Poetry | Wantin’ Only (Yourself) – Ronovan Writes Décima Poetry Challenge

Been wonderin’ why you would go

so far, now trippin’ then slippin’

over false words, ego boostin’

love with mirror-kissin’. For show?

Don’t know why you can’t seem to grow

up. And you keep diggin’ lower,

givin’ intelligence over

to fixation rather than care.

Wizen not wise, you live your fear—

bein’ loved just by the hour.

(I came across this challenge today and was excited to try it. This is my first time writing in this form)

From Ronovan Writes:

THE QUICK DESCRIPTION OF HOW TO WRITE A DÉCIMA:

  1. There are 10 lines of poetry that rhyme.
  2. 8 syllables per line.
  3. There is a SET RHYMING PATTERN we must stick to. ABBAACCDDC OR  two stanzas of ABBA/ACCDDC.

Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 342 ROUGH and Season.

Our Last Hike in the White Mountains

Once the journey starts,

harsh words and terrain hinder,

blind us—and now rain.