Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Independence

(Tim Hall Cultura Getty Images)

“Independence is a complex word in a foreign tongue.
 To resist occupation, whether you're a nation or merely a woman, you must understand the language of your enemy. Conquest and liberation and democracy and divorce are words that mean squat, basically, when you have hungry children and clothes to get out on the line and it looks like rain.” 

― Barbara Kingsolver

“From birds she learned how to sing; from cats she learned 
a form of dangerous independence.” 

― Salman Rushdie

It is very nearly impossible... to become an educated person in a country 

so distrustful of the independent mind. 

― James A. Baldwin

source

Midweek Motif ~ 
Independence

Many of our countries have holidays that celebrate gaining independence from foreign rule, and many of us also have rites--formal and informal--related to gaining independence.  Some of these are about our countries and ~ more importantly ~ some of these are about us as individuals and members of groups.   

What is your experience of independence? 

How might you describe independence to someone who has never encountered it?

How are your beliefs about independence reflected in how you see nature?  

Or vice versa: How is your view of nature reflected in your beliefs about independence?

Your Challenge: Let your new poem answer one of the four questions above.

Johnny Cash - As Long As the Grass Shall Grow

Excerpt from "The Declaration of Independence" 

by ― Thomas Jefferson

We hold these truths to be self-evident:

that all men are created equal,

that they are endowed by their Creator

with certain unalienable rights,

that among these are life, liberty

and the pursuit of happiness.

Sympathy

Related Poem Content Details

BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

I know what the caged bird feels! 

I know why the caged bird beats his wing 

    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;   

For he must fly back to his perch and cling   

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing; 

    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars   

And they pulse again with a keener sting— 

I know why he beats his wing! 

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, 

    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,— 

When he beats his bars and he would be free; 

It is not a carol of joy or glee, 

    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,   

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings— 

I know why the caged bird sings!

mud mothers

Related Poem Content Details

BY LENELLE MOÏSE

the children of haiti

are not mythological

. . . . 

we are a living dead example

of what happens to warriors who

in lieu of fighting for white men's countries

dare to fight

for their own lives

during carnival

we could care less

about our bloated empty bellies

where there are voices

we are dancing

where there is vodou

we are horses

where there are drums

we are possessed

with joy and stubborn jamboree

but   . . . .

(Read the rest HERE)

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Please share your new poem using Mr. Linky below and visit others in the spirit of the community—

(Next week Sumana's Midweek Motif will be ~ Movement.)