write 20 poems about Colombia

Today I wrote feverishly on the train after my quiet time, between trains, on the second train, then did revisions on the first going-home train. I’m sure I’ll continue revising for a while, but it is essentially written. Perfect timing, because my favorite poetry workshop starts back up tomorrow evening after a hiatus of a couple of months. Also I have a reading coming up Friday night . . .

I’m very happy about completing this goal, but #20 is about another sad subject: the disappeared of Colombia. Which reminds me, soon at the Art Institute of Chicago we’ll get to see what promises to be an amazing piece on the same topic by Oscar Muñoz, a Colombian artist (here’s a review).

has been in process for 2-3 weeks, & I finally typed it up today. It is long-a little over two pages-because it’s a series of short vignettes about women in Colombia. It’s called “What we have done.” I look forward to taking it to a workshop & getting some feedback—but I can’t till September, since both of the ongoing workshops I attend are taking a summer break.

Only one more & I can check off this goal!

I am getting so close to completing this Thing!

I’ve been working on this poem over the past week, & today I decided it’s close enough to finished to print out & (soon, I hope) take to a workshop. It’s called “Deus ex machina (U.S. aid)”—about Huey helicopters that were recently used to shoot pepper gas & bullets at thousands of peaceful demonstrators in southern Colombia.

a monthly workshop I had visited once before. For some reason the overall quality of the poems people brought was markedly higher this time. I took one of my favorites among the Colombia poems, & the participants-including the facilitator-made very affirming & thoughtful comments.

When it was my turn to speak, I told them I’m uncertain of the Colombia poems’ publishability, because they’re narrative (which is not the reigning fashion these days). One of the editors of Rhino, the journal that organizes these workshops, said I should try submitting there! A participant recommended Commonweal, a Catholic magazine that publishes poetry along with thoughtful social commentary.

So—lots of strong poetry, encouragement & good leads.

“Building peace” is a snapshot of one morning in the life of the Cacarica community, committed to the nonviolent construction of an alternative way of life in the midst of their country’s war.

Something I like about this poem: its quiet, even tone despite the background threat of violence. I think I’m picking that up from Naomi Shihab Nye, whose poems I’ve been rereading.

No. 15, written on Good Friday, is a Good Friday poem (both lamentation & hope), a preposition poem (part of the other series that I started)—& Colombia entered it unexpectedly. It is called “Upon, Unto.”

No. 16, written tonight, is dedicated to the Nasa people of Northern Cauca. The stories told by our houseguest, a member of that community, have thoroughly inspired me. This poem is called “Family stories” & the main character is Mother Earth.

The image is a chumbe weaving, traditional Nasa art.

“Sabbath,” recounting a visit to the Adventist church in Esperanza en Dios. It comes around to questions about prayer & if/how we can forgive atrocities.

I was struck by how peaceful community members were in responding to my questions about these things.

a new Colombia poem yet-I hope to write two more this month. But next week I’m going to attend an evening workshop with Ted Kooser, current U.S. poet laureate, & today I sent one of my Colombia poems for him to critique! What an opportunity-one of the many perks of being a member of the Poetry Center of Chicago.

I’ll report back after the workshop.

came pressing upon me tonight. Because of work needs, I put the writing off till there was less than an hour to go before I needed to leave for the poetry workshop! But the delay was good, because by the time I sat down with my journal & pen the poem was pressing inside me. It’s a little like giving birth-push! push!-but, happily, a lot less physically painful.

The subject was emotionally painful, though, & a new type of poem for me. It’s called “The advocate’s confession” & delves into the life & inner world of a Colombian human rights advocate who enjoys the adrenaline rush of danger/urgency & ends up a fanatic, consumed by the war & empty of real humanity. My fellow poets at the workshop really interacted with it & appreciated it, which was encouraging.

way too long, but tonight it was good (though hard) to sit down & wrestle with language for a poem about Orlando’s murder. I ended up focusing on his (imagined) daughter Leidy, about five years old, waking up & having breakfast the morning after his body is identified.

This is number 12, I believe. I’ll be taking it to the poetry workshop on Tuesday. Those who have been part of the workshop since earlier this year have told me they are certainly learning a lot about Colombia through my series!

I never met Orlando in person, but from this photo I can tell he had a flair for the dramatic.