On the Other Side of Somewhere

This poem was originally performed at the Thirteenth Artists Against Rape: In Remembering, We Rise in 2010. Since reading Ronan Farrow’s harrowing article exposing the sex crimes of Harvey Weinstein that was published today in The New Yorker, the following poem came to mind. The word disgusted is far from the reaction I can describe. If there was a perfect word for pure evil. My heart goes out to the victims. It takes incredible strength and courage to come forward and expose a monstrous Goliath in any industry or organization that is carefully structured to protect powerful men and tries to squash women whom they think are petty and dispensable. WE ARE NOT.

***

for Suzette Nicolas, Jennifer Laude, and the women and girls of Regional Haven

We are alive
As the earth is alive
We have the power to create our own freedom
If we have courage, we can be healed
Like the sun we shall rise
If we have courage, we can be healers
Like the sun we shall rise

Kita mga buhi
Sugad han kalibutan nga buhi gihap
May-ada kita gahom para magka may-ada kita kalibrehan
Kun may-ada kita kailob, mabubulong kita
Pareho ha adlaw matindog kita
Kun may-ada kita kailob, pwede kita an magbulong
Pareho ha adlaw matindog kita

am I another model under the
Subic rape case –
for we women are simply soft wet
pink holes and pink tongues
but how can that
just be?
the male species wants us to be
bodies of breasts while
our voices sing lullabies
as mad men condone
our bodies be bored, nested, and burnt through
demanding procreation and our instinct for survival
even after they have ripped us open

to enjoy

                        experiment

                                    and then discard –

our human existence is beyond the instinct for survival –
our dreams and very consciousness
keep us alive
even when that dream is so disconnected
from reality –
we are beyond another’s ownership and use –
maybe it is this desperation to find that
which is deep
within us –
our perseverance
our souls
cannot be taken away
even if asked
even if fucked in the back of a moving van –
there are burn marks on this body
there are burn marks on my skin
cigarette butts drilled into my flesh
like a piece of wood waiting to be smoldered
and even so
permission is never granted
while you try to claim my soul
through the passages
of my body –