Zahra Gordon

This post has many inspirations. I’ve been in deep thought lately about this trip, about the way I see the world, my future and how poetry ultimately fits into my life.

I recently interviewed the director Steven Taylor on his progress at the University of Southern California(USC). Steven’s been there for two years as he’s getting his MFA in cinematic arts and film/TV production. Getting to USC was a gargantuan feat for Steven. When I first met him in 2013, he was fundraising and fighting for scholarships; he wasn’t even sure he’d make it. Later this month, he’ll be interning at Will Smith’s production company, Overbrook Entertainment. I’m proud of him and the work he’s doing. I’m also inspired by his determination to follow a lifelong dream. Steven lives and breathes film and for that, I applaud him. At the end of the interview he graciously asked me what was new and I mentioned that I was heading to Haiti to read poetry at the Caribbean Studies Association (CSA) conference.

He was surprised. “You’re a poet? But how come I don’t see anything on your profile about poetry?” Well, for one thing Steven has about 3000 Facebook friends and probably missed most of my posts about poetry. What he was really getting at is sharing though; he essentially wanted to know how come I don’t share my poems in the same way he shares sneak peaks and trailers for his projects. Well, writing is different. Literary magazines and publishing houses tend to frown upon previously published work even if it is on a personal blog. And for poets and writers, literary mags are the gateway to workshops, books and recognition.Still, his question wrestled the thinking cap back onto my head. Am I living and breathing poetry the way Steven is film? It’s a question that comes up often – part of the doubt inherent to writers. I was inspired to share, however.

When the earthquake devastated Haiti in 2010, I was sitting in a Drivers’ Ed class in Takoma Park, Maryland. The owner of the driving school was Ghanaian and most students from the Diaspora. It was breaking news and we sat in silence as horrific images began to appear on the classroom TV. I felt the same sorrow I did when watching footage of those affected by Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005.

At the time, I was also doing my poetry workshop at Howard with Tony Medina. One of our assignments shortly after the news broke was to write about the devastation through the perspective of an inanimate object. My piece is below. I’ve never been to Haiti before so I don’t know exactly what it looked like before the earthquake, but while there, I’m going to try to get an idea of how things have changed since then.

Gauze Bandage

i do not want to think about your suffering
because it is also mine

i hear your thoughts running from pain to pain, missing mother to father, sister, brother;
the last game you played, your anger at losing;

i see the tears forming at the back of your eyes and feel the blood gushing through your right temple

i know you believe you would’ve won that game were you thirty degrees to the left when you pitched that last marble; i can hear you scream as you disband the proceedings, thrusting a fist against your thigh, and feel the tremors running through your body;

so here i am weak and loose, unravelling and yes, you’ve been aided but i can still hear you scream, the sound of concrete crushing your body against the earth as it shakes and splits, breaking up the peace; here, your memories render me useless

i  do not want to think about your suffering
because it is also mine, so please

*Haitian Nursery Rhyme: “Fais Dodo” Go to sleep baby for mama. If baby won’t go to sleep the big cat will come and eat him. Go to sleep little one for mama. If baby won’t go to sleep the big wolf will come and eat him.