Enter the Void
By Juan Felipe Herrara
I enter the void,
it has the shape of a viola:
Israel, Jenin, West ank, Nablus-- a rubble boy
shifts his scapula as if it was his continent, underground
Gazaground, I want to say-- his only bone,
the rubble boy is a girl, I think
her hair tossed, knotted and torn under
the green shank of fibers, tubes and shells.
She digs for her rubble father, I say rubble
because it is indistinguishable from ice, fire, dust,
clay, flesh, tears, concrete, bread, lungs, pubis, god,
say rubble, say water--
the rubble girl digs for her rubble mother,
occupation-- disinheritance-- once again,
I had written this somewhere, in a workshop, I think,
yes, it was an afternoon of dark poets with leaves, coffee
and music in the liquor light room...
Enter. I linked the poem because I think it's worth reading the entire poem. It's also the site I used for most of my poems I used during this Lenten experience. Today is the last day of my Lenten blogging since tomorrow is Easter. It's been challenging and, perhaps, somewhat rewarding. When April starts, I'll be blogging my #30daysofbiking. It may merely be photos of each days ride. Anyway, enter seems a fitting word for the end of this process. It's not an exit but an entrance into another challenge.
Today I give thanks for (many are repeats)...
1) 90s music
2) the robins in the trees outside my kitchen door
3) NCAA March Madness... Proud of the Iowa State Cyclones...
4) wonderful friends and getting together over break
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