Common Good Collective

Poetry for Building Community, Reader, Structure Of Belonging, Wilderness: Sharing and Reorientation Permalink

“Backwards”

One in 15 children are exposed to intimate partner violence each year, and 90% of these children are eyewitnesses to this violence. In “Backwards”, poet Warsan Shire shares her experience witnessing the abuse of her then-pregnant mother, and remembers the violence she suffered as well. While the mainstream media often tries to sensationalize conflict — especially between high-profile characters of the Elite class — the common good knows that we are only as safe as the most vulnerable among us.

Backwards
By Warsan Shire

The poem can start with him walking backwards into a room.
He takes off his jacket and sits down for the rest of his life;
that’s how we bring Dad back.
I can make the blood run back up my nose, ants rushing into a hole.
We grow into smaller bodies, my breasts disappear,
your cheeks soften, teeth sink back into gums.
I can make us loved, just say the word.
Give them stumps for hands if even once they touched us without consent,
I can write the poem and make it disappear.
Step-Dad spits liquor back into glass,
Mum’s body rolls back up the stairs, the bone pops back into place,
maybe she keeps the baby.
Maybe we’re okay kid?
I’ll rewrite this whole life and this time there’ll be so much love,
you won’t be able to see beyond it.

You won’t be able to see beyond it,
I’ll rewrite this whole life and this time there’ll be so much love.
Maybe we’re okay kid,
maybe she keeps the baby.
Mum’s body rolls back up the stairs, the bone pops back into place,
Step-Dad spits liquor back into glass.
I can write the poem and make it disappear,
give them stumps for hands if even once they touched us without consent,
I can make us loved, just say the word.
Your cheeks soften, teeth sink back into gums
we grow into smaller bodies, my breasts disappear.
I can make the blood run back up my nose, ants rushing into a hole,
that’s how we bring Dad back.
He takes off his jacket and sits down for the rest of his life.
The poem can start with him walking backwards into a room.

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Imagination: The Prophetic Act of Living an Alternative Narrative, Reader, Wilderness: Sharing and Reorientation Permalink

“The V-Word”

Violence is often treated like a taboo subject, even though we experience it in its various iterations every day. I have written an essay reflecting on the issue of violence and how we can free ourselves to understand it in a way that may lessen its prevalence in our lives, while healing the real collective wounds it leaves behind.

“The V-Word”
By Courtney Napier

I like to think of myself as a gentle person. I get it from my mother. She is one of the sweetest, gentlest people I know. I remember having friends over as a teenager and they would say, “Your mom is so zen!”

What many don’t know is that, while gentleness for majoritized Americans — white people — is a cultural ideal, for Black women like my mother and I, it is also a technique for our survival. Earning the moniker of “angry Black woman” can be a difficult and oppressive label. The power elite in American (and Western) society does not account for the range of emotion and expression that white men and women receive. In fact, the spectrum is such that white men have incredible latitude for emotionality and reactivity to life’s highs and lows, as we have seen in historic moments from the Boston Tea Party to Disco Demolition Night to the UNC Tarheels defeating the Duke Blue Devils in their NCAA Basketball Final Four matchup this weekend. On the other hand, women and minorities have little room to respond to life’s most powerful moments with true human authenticity, however fair or flawed, without drastic repercussions.

Make the Voices in Your Head Your Friends

Conflict not only occurs in relationship with others, but also with the self. When we are able to navigate such conflicts, however, the results are the same — the fruits of peace, creativity, and wisdom enrich us all.

Poet Warsan Shire Hopes You Can Make the Voices in Your Head Your Friends

Somali British poet Warsan Shire has had many projects, including running a popular Tumblr page and collaborating with Beyoncé. Now, she is out with a new collection of poems called Bless The Daughter Raised By A Voice In Her Head. That title is an ode to how she was raised, having to take on a lot of responsibility from a young age. But Shire told NPR’s Sarah McCammon that it’s also an ode to the children who are able to turn those voices into their friends instead of struggling with them as she has.

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Imagination: The Prophetic Act of Living an Alternative Narrative, Reader, Structure Of Belonging Permalink

Imagine Peace

This week’s Reader is the in our Liberators series. It presents work that calls us to look right at the forces that keep us caged. They describe liberation as bringing our whole selves to a common table and trusting better stories about ourselves and each other.

Next week, we will begin a series of weekly Reader collections exploring Conflict, Reconciliation, and Redemption. We will also start to introduce the incredible team of curators and writers who make the Reader possible. Until then, please imagine peace as you take in the beautiful and challenging works below.

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Poetry for Building Community, Structure Of Belonging, Wilderness: Sharing and Reorientation Permalink

“There Is No Table Long Enough”

This poem moves from distance and fear to closeness and courage. In this time of threat and violent conflict, these stanzas are worth memorizing.

“There Is No Table Long Enough”
By David Whyte

One man’s unspoken inner edge of darkness
un-confronted and un-transformed
sitting far away in his own fear,
like someone looking through
the wrong end of a child’s telescope,
like someone sitting at the end
of an absurdly lengthened table:
holds his intimate circle in fear of death
and torture, threatens their families,
poisons their lives along with his enemies,
sews everyone into the straight jacket
of immobile fear, then carefully tailors
a uniform of death for every single one
of his bullied young men to wear.