The World Will Follow Joy Read online

  may still prick our feet as we trudge hopefully

  along, but there will be moments of sheer

  incandescent joy.

  As, for instance, when Alice found herself

  face to face with someone she had loved long

  before he was born.

  I have loved you since way before you were

  born,

  she said to him.

  He looked skeptical.

  He was dressed like a handsome bumble bee

  and this made Alice happy

  because she loves bees.

  They are the reason everything happens

  thinks the farmer and flower grower in her

  heart.

  How can that be? He finally asked.

  Simple, she said to him:

  It is because I loved your parents.

  When the world learned that you were

  coming

  some thirty-five years ago

  I said a special prayer for you:

  for your safety, for balance in life,

  for your health and happiness.

  Really? he said.

  Really, she said.

  And now, look at you:

  a young man still,

  but wise and thoughtful.

  Someone who can talk sensibly

  with someone twice your age.

  And a woman, too!

  You are well raised. Alice continued.

  All of my prayers

  seem to have been answered.

  Thank you. He said.

  They talked for a long time

  and

  amazing to Alice

  it was as if she’d stumbled upon a wise

  old man

  from the mountains:

  he had much to tell her, much to share

  about the austerities and the benefits of grief.

  She was enchanted. She was restored.

  She was so happy

  it was almost more

  than she could stand.

  This solace of love and understanding

  that could become a resting place

  for the sorrow in her own heart

  over something rare

  that she had lost in her own life

  that somehow complemented

  something and someone he lost

  while still a child;

  something

  that gave him so much gentleness

  and compassion.

  From Kisi, Kenya

  Kwamboka Okari sent the photo of the girls’

  dorm

  to Alice

  with a note: Look what we have done with

  some of the gift

  from Yoko Ono and her husband (this made

  Alice chuckle).

  Alice was so happy she started to sing a song

  that once

  meant the world to her: Changing

  the lyrics

  only a little:

  All we have is love;

  All we have is love;

  All we have is love, love;

  Love is all we have.

  And she felt so lucky to know in her heart

  that this is a major moment of

  enlightenment,

  this awareness:

  once again she gave thanks

  to her new friend’s father

  who sang so many years ago

  and with such gusto

  that it’s just as well that love is all we have

  because love is all we need.

  Alice and Sean Lennon

  ***

  Alice and Kwamboka

  This is Alice and Kwamboka

  Sitting peaceful

  on a sofa:

  the green king

  of blues

  communing with Lucille

  just

  behind us!3

  ***

  May It Be Said of Me

  May it be said of me

  That when I saw

  Your mud hut

  I remembered

  My shack.

  That when I tasted your

  Pebble filled beans

  I recalled

  My salt pork.

  That when I saw

  Your twisted Limbs

  I embraced

  My wounded

  Sight.

  That when you

  Rose from your knees

  And stood

  Like women

  And men

  Of this Earth—

  As promised to us

  As to anyone:

  Without regrets

  Of any kind

  I joined you—

  Singing.

  ***

  And Do You See What They Have Bought with It?

  You have bought

  Foolish hats

  From madmen

  In Paris

  You have bought

  Shoes

  You never

  Intend to wear

  You have

  Bought

  Cars for

  Each day

  Of

  The week.

  You ride

  Faster than

  Our donkeys

  Can

  Think;

  Splashed with

  The perfume

  of our mothers’

  Tears.

  On

  Television

  You appear

  In all your

  Innocence

  Wearing the spectacles

  Whose frames

  Our turtles

  Unwillingly

  Donated to you

  With their

  Shells

  You speak

  About our danger

  To you

  Our anger

  And envy

  And greed.

  You are genuinely surprised to see us

  Not only standing

  But even more

  Mysteriously

  Armed, absolutely,

  With the graceful

  Power

  Of speech.

  But we were busy

  In those shacks

  &

  Mud huts

  Before dark;

  Before the mosquitoes

  Drove us

  From our books.

  We know

  What you take

  From us

  And what

  Useless things

  —never love or peace or happiness—

  You buy

  With it.

  ***

  She

  For Gloria Steinem

  She is the one

  who will notice

  that the first snapdragon

  of Spring

  is

  in bloom;

  She is the one

  who will tell the most

  funny

  &

  complicated

  joke.

  She is the one

  who will surprise you

  by knowing the difference

  between turnips

  and collard

  Greens;

  & between biscuits

  & scones.

  She is the one who knows where

  to take you

  for dancing

  or where the food

  & the restaurant’s

  décor

  are not

  to be

  missed.

  She is the one

  who is saintly.

  She is the one

  who reserves the right

  to dress

  like a slut.

  She is the one

  who takes you shopping;

  She is the one

  who knows where

  the best clothes

  are bought

  cheap.

  She is the one

  who warms your

  home

  with her fragrance;
/>   the one who brings

  music, magic & joy.

  She is the one

  Speaking

  the truth

  from her heart.

  She is the one at the bedside

  wedding, funeral

  or divorce

  of all the best people

  you dearly love.

  She is the one

  with courage.

  She is the one

  who speaks

  her bright mind;

  She is the one

  who encourages young &

  old

  to do the same.

  She is the one

  on the picket line, at the barricade,

  at the prison, in jail;

  She is the one

  who is there.

  If they come for me

  & I am at her house

  I know

  she will hide me.

  If I tell her

  where I have hidden

  my heart

  she will keep

  my secret

  safe.

  She is the one

  who

  without hesitation

  comes to my aid &

  my defense.

  She is the one

  who believes

  my side of the story

  first;

  She is the one

  whose heart

  is open.

  She is the one who loves.

  She is the one who makes

  activism

  the most compelling

  because she is the one

  who is irresistible

  her own self.

  She is our sister, our teacher, our friend:

  Gloria Steinem.

  Born 75 years ago

  Glorious

  To your parents

  & still

  Radiant

  Today.

  Happy Birthday, Beloved.

  The grand feast

  Of your noble Spirit

  Has been

  & is the cake

  that nourishes

  Us.

  We thank you for your Beauty

  & your Being.

  Namaste.4

  ***

  Our Martyrs

  For the Egyptian people

  When the people

  have won a victory

  whether small

  or large

  do you ever wonder

  at that moment

  where the martyrs

  might be?

  They who sacrificed

  Themselves

  to bring to life

  something unknown

  though nonetheless more precious

  than their blood.

  I like to think of them

  hovering over us

  wherever we have gathered

  to weep and to rejoice;

  smiling and laughing,

  actually slapping each other’s palms

  in glee.

  Their blood has dried

  and become rose petals.

  What you feel brushing your cheek

  is not only your tears

  but these.

  Martyrs never regret

  what they have done

  having done it.

  Amazing too

  they never frown.

  It is all so mysterious

  the way they remain

  above us

  beside us

  within us;

  how they beam

  a human sunrise

  and are so proud.

  ***

  The tree of life has fallen

  For the departing dictator, in perpetuity

  The tree of life

  has fallen on my small house.

  I thought it was so much bigger!

  But it is not.

  There in the distance I see the mountains

  still.

  The view of vast water stretching before me

  is superb.

  My boat is grand and I still command the captain

  of it; not having learned myself to sail.

  But I am adrift

  without my tree of life

  that has fallen heavy

  without grace or pity

  on this small place.

  ***

  To Change the World Enough

  To change the world enough

  you must cease to be afraid

  of the poor.

  We experience your fear as the least pardonable of

  humiliations; in the past

  it has sent us scurrying off

  daunted and ashamed

  into the shadows.

  Now,

  the world ending

  the only one all of us have known

  we seek the same

  fresh light

  you do:

  the same high place

  and ample table.

  The poor always believe

  there is room enough

  for all of us;

  the very rich never seem to have heard

  of this.

  In us there is wisdom of how to share

  loaves and fishes

  however few;

  we do this every day.

  Learn from us,

  we ask you.

  We enter now

  the dreaded location

  of Earth’s reckoning;

  no longer far

  off

  or hidden in books

  that claim to disclose

  revelations;

  it is here.

  We must walk together without fear.

  There is no path without us.

  ***

  Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit

  “Blessed are the poor in spirit (for theirs is the kingdom of heaven).”

  Did you ever understand this?

  If my spirit was poor, how could I enter heaven?

  Was I depressed?

  Understanding editing,

  I see how a comma, removed or inserted

  with careful plan,

  can change everything.

  I was reminded of this

  when a poor young man

  in Tunisia

  desperate to live

  and humiliated for trying

  set himself ablaze;

  I felt uncomfortably warm

  as if scalded by his shame.

  I do not have to sell vegetables from a cart as he did

  or live in narrow rooms too small for spacious thought;

  and, at this late date,

  I do not worry that someone will

  remove every single opportunity

  for me to thrive.

  Still, I am connected to, inseparable from,

  this young man.

  Blessed are the poor, in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

  Jesus. (Commas restored).

  Jesus was as usual talking about solidarity: about how we join with others

  and, in spirit, feel the world, and suffering, the same as them.

  This is the kingdom of owning the other as self, the self as other—

  that transforms grief into

  peace and delight.

  I, and you, might enter the heaven

  of right here

  through this door.

  In this spirit, knowing we are blessed,

  we might remain poor.

  ***

  What do I get for getting old? A Picture Story for the Curious!

  (You supply the pictures!)

  I get to meditate

  in a chair!

  Or against the wall

  with my legs

  stretched out!

  (Or even in bed!)

  I get to see

  maybe half

  of what I’m looking at!

  (This changes everything!)

  I get to dance

  like the tipsy old men
>
  I adored

  when I was an infant!

  (They never dropped me!)

  I get to spend time with myself

  whenever I want!

  I get to ride a bicycle

  with tall

  handlebars!

  (My posture improves!)

  I get to give up

  learning to sail!

  I get to know

  I will never speak

  German!

  I get to snuggle all

  Morning

  with my snuggler

  of choice:

  counting the hours

  by how many times

  we get up

  to pee!

  I get to spend time with myself

  whenever I want!

  I get to eat chocolate

  with my salad.

  Or even as a first course!

  I get to forget!

  I get to paint

  with colors

  I mix myself!

  Colors

  I’ve never seen

  before.

  I get to sleep

  with my dog

  & pray never to outlive

  my cat!

  I get to play

  music

  without reading

  a note!

  I get to spend time with myself

  whenever I want!

  I get to sleep

  in a

  hammock

  under the same

  stars

  wherever I am!

  I get to spend time with myself

  whenever I want!

  I get to laugh

  at all the things

  I don’t know

  & cannot

  find!

  I get to greet

  people I don’t remember

  as if I know them

  very well.

  After all, how different

  can they be?

  I get to grow

  my entire

  garden

  in a few

  pots!

  I get to spend time with myself

  whenever I want!

  I get to see

  & feel

  the suffering

  of the whole

  world

  & to take

  a nap

  when I feel

  like it

  anyway!

  I get to spend time with myself

  whenever I want!

  I get to feel

  more love

  than I ever thought

  existed!

  Everything appears to be made

  of the stuff!

  I feel this

  especially for You! Though I may not remember

  exactly which You

  you are!

  How cool is this!

  Still, I get to spend time with myself