Tag Archives: spirit

NaPoWriMo Day 10 – Woman in the World’s Tomorrow

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I am pregnant with you,
woman who will live in the world’s tomorrow.
In a distant year
my flesh created,
my fibres remember,
each day a darkened labour
bodily suffering tamed by will
and sweetened by hope
ineffably.
Now not a man’s seed in me
not an embryo fed by my blood
but in my spirit
lies the eager image of you, woman,
of the you who will be
slowly molded, nurtured
knocking at doors wanting life,
fully formed at last
in auras of freedom and truth
woman in the world’s tomorrow.

I carry you with me, a clear image,
contrast and complement
to my heart’s troubles,
hurting for some many today
hurting for inhuman toils
hurting for dehuman children
or for children kidnapped in war,
or inanimate objects of lust,
oh my discouraged kin, shame on all!
And I hear others shrieking
unknowingly laughing along
and I see others in shock
more self-absorbed than their men
greedy yearning toxic riches.
As if I held you in me
I focus on you, in you, creature of new
on your future features
creature fully true of a life of truth achieved,
a life redeemed of its beastly remains,
as this land grows each day more beautiful
with everyone’s toil a fervent hymn
harmonious hymn of the human spirit.

And I am not alone, more and more
just like me carry you within
and in flashes of blessings
something of your gaze shines through,
the image of you our safety
the image of you our hope
as the world today derides us,
bitter and blind opposes us
oh all you brave and fighting
girls, wives, tender powerful old
in proud labour and still blessed
ineffably,
by your arrival, woman, in the world’s tomorrow
in this sibling shelter
just and good
and finally worthy of glory,
you, harmonious queen of freedom and truth.

(Original Italian by Sibilla Aleramo, ‘Donna nel domani del mondo’. There are many versions online, but I’d rather link to an extract from her diary, from 1959.)

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NaPoWriMo Day 29 – The Mother I (Benni)

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Where I live now looks like
an abandoned beach
with dunes and wild herbs
the waves, without horizon
change light and colour
at the clouds’ will.
We, the dead, do not have
night, or day, or days.

Often from here I see you
on the other side of the sea
in a trembling heat
I know your every thought
I spy on your words and letters
like a candle, or a cat
with a breath I show you the lines
about me.

But this is my new land
and I am never allowed a touch
to send you healing.
Only that light breath
like a loving voice
a call from behind the wall
or a hedge of roses
a mysterious birdsong.
You never saw me
waiting outside the bar
you spoke with force and anger
of battles and justice
the you found me laughing.
I was late, they don’t understand.
It doesn’t matter. Take me to the hill
to breathe. To fuck. To see
where we live from up there.
Down there, crucified in your kitchen
you are still the one I loved
never beaten, proud, my man
I shout it, but you can’t hear me.