when i leave this singing place
a poem of questioning, of place + home…
The below, is an older poem i wrote back in 2004 which will be included in my upcoming book of poetry, ‘learning to dance with stone’.
Believe it or not, a number of years ago, my family and i were horrifically bashed by a homophobic neighbour while living in a housing co-op in Vancouver. We lived there for 8 years where the homophobic events started that first day we moved in. Over those years, the incidents continued to happen, despite our efforts to deal with them through the co-op board of directors and membership.
In essence, the co-op refused to deal with issue suggesting that we were only, ‘poking the bear’ (their words). Eventually, the main bashing episode occurred out-the-blue late one night. It was the most frightening moment of my life, our lives. I’ve written about this incident before, of which i may share here at some point.
I did write a poem about living in this place, the co-op i won’t name, that touted to be a ‘place of heart’… um, not!
if i leave this singing place...
i will miss the drums of the flickers
at this time of the morning glory who sing sturdy
despite brittle, scorched shrubbery amidst them
i too will leave this place as they lessen
their grip far sooner than autumn
i linger with low mourning as to why
i cannot sing with them because i am
fixed numb with bewilderment
complete bafflement way frozen
i cry be-side my drummers of kin
who have called me to restiveness day after day
since the time we have lived in this house
of fraudulent impression… split-community, no-pride
why oh why…why please why
did it have to happen that i... my own kith and kin
were battered with such potent hatred of
who we are… we, only different from them?
the strength i know now is i will sing again and again
with the gold drummers who fly with me
wherever i go
by weaver x (((o))) © 2004