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 Mar 2021 shamamama
Lucia Urreta
My existence is protest.
Where I am placed in a world,
Built to oppose, oppress me.
Yet I smile,
I own my body,
And my words.
Where there are people that oppose my independence,
My being,
I will work harder,
And speak louder.
My existence is protest,
My laughter revolution.
There are so many categories of people that exist in the world that are sadly put down because of who they are, because of race, religion, gender, sexuality, etc. Never let anyone doubt your validity and humanity, and speak loud, take up space.
 Mar 2021 shamamama
Lucia Urreta
Black tourmaline feathers glisten,
A mirror for the constellations,
And by the milky-white light of the moon,
A young shoot appears from a branch,
To give life in a new day.
Cornrows forge a rhythm to the sun
and self love feels like a line dance.
A shake of tassels and silks that
unfurl in the nick of time.

Love flowers on a stalk, above, below.
The wind sweeps in an airy betrothal,
a surge and then a sway, sashay,
a whirl in the nick of time.

Pollen, sparkles, pixel burst.
How do the ears of corn know,
to listen to the wind holler,
to twirl in the nick of time.

In a Caryopsis, a synopsis
of self seducing passions,
crushed to cornmeal. Floury
swirl in the nick of time.
The inspiration for this poem lay in a snippet of poetry that the wonderful actor, the late Irrfan Khan voices to a pomegranate plant in the movie Karwaan (Hindi). He say this to the sapling of Anarkali (pomegranate bud):

“They buried me alive thinking I’ll perish,
but they didn’t realise, that I’m a seed and in my burial, lay my redemption. My dear pomegranate bud, don’t be in a hurry to bloom and fruit. You will be taken to an expansive space where you can grow and flourish.”

The delicate instruction got me to think about seeds, progenitors of the future, buried and redeemed when they germinate. There are so many ways to create a seed. Love in the plant kingdom, if it can be called that, is as diverse as the plants that make up the flora of the world.

Today’s post is about corn rows in a field. Corn is a wind pollinated plant (male and female flowers occur on the same stalk and corn can self pollinate too). It would be interesting to note that the time of synchronous maturation of flowers on the stalk is termed colloquially, a nick. Tassels, silks, ears are all parts of corn flowers and Caryopsis, the fruit of the corn arranged on the cob, is a fruit body found in other varieties of grasses as well. So much for the botanical lesson for now.

On a separate note, it seems like ages when my mother braided my (then short) hair in cornrows which was unusual for my school days. It’s time consuming to braid hair thus, especially when extensions are involved (like I first saw people in Dar es Salaam wear them) hours of labour involved, but a wonderful way to wear hair nevertheless.

It was also in Dar that I danced a Kenyan style line dance that is a form of synchronized dancing where each person moves separately to rhythm. Do check the South African anthem Jerusalema that was put to this unbeatable step (to go viral online), by the Angolan dance troupe, Fenomenos de Semba (and if dancing with a plate of food is your kind of thing). The idea behind Line dancing is that it begets coexistence. I would like to imagine a kind of ‘Convivencia’, which resonates with the theme of corn love or a communal love dancing in a corn field, so to speak. (Although, Convivencia is used to denote the complex interplay of social, cultural and religious practices). We are still the same species despite the differences , like corn in a field.

Thank you for reading.
 Mar 2021 shamamama
Camille
Darling, tell me again about Madrid
Towers of Córdoba
Or the Andalusian moon
How you know my spirit’s there
And that you’ll take me soon
Tell me again
All about Spain
Land of crystal tambourines and pristine shores
Beauteous hearts and ancient sores
That shoulder where death comes to cry
When the wind rises with a longing sigh
To the skirt of Preciosa
Una cosa tan Hermosa
Oh, my love
Take me to Spain!
Buffalo Clouds

Buffalo roam
The skies today
Hides of white
Touch of gray

There’s platypus
Pegasus
And
Hippo too

But it’s the Buffalo
Stampeding
Our skies of blue

By: Bill MacEachern
03/29/2021
 Mar 2021 shamamama
Coralium
sprout
 Mar 2021 shamamama
Coralium
I won´t blossom
I won´t bloom
for that I am evergreen
I peck the keys with one
finger of one hand as the new
Christmas kitten lays content
and warm curled upon my
chest and folded into the crook
of my left arm, his purr motor
at full rev, this his preferred napping
perch whenever I sit at my computer,
little hedonist that he is.

And who am I to object to these
moments of shared warm affection?
It takes longer but I am
getting pretty good at
one hand one finger typing.
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