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Gringa in GuatemalaGringa in GuatemalaGringa in Guatemala
Saturday, August 18 (Day 1)
I’ve made it! I’m in Guatemala City, where my 5’10” blonde self stands out like a sore thumb. The city is a little creepy – there is barbed wire on top of all the walls, and lots of soldiers on the streets. People with big guns, anyway. But I explored the city some, and found myself some food. I’m settled for the night, and am very excited about traveling to Quetzaltenango tomorrow. I can feel my Spanish improving already, and am wishing I’d paid more attention to the t
by ~RedefineReality
Quantitative RealitySome seem to thinkQuantitative Reality
the world can be defined in numbers.
I can be identified by passport number, driver’s license, social security.
Defined by
income, GPA, census data…
They do not ask
if I would paint my soul as a fern frond
or a butterfly wing.
I do not present a poem
at borders or rights of passage.
My ID cannot be sung, the geneology of myself
is cased in plastic, a tiny photo,
and the ever-present numbers.
Statistical data required— I cannot dance society into awareness, into change.
But numbers t
by ~RedefineReality
To Feminism“To feminism!”To Feminism
I shout,
raising the glass
to a group of friends
and equals,
men and women.
To feminism!
As I sit
in my own room,
To Virginia Woolf!
To Betty Freidan!
To Elizabeth Cady Stanton!
As I simply live my life,
To humanity!
as I scribble journals,
poems.
To equality!
as I labor in hospitals,
as I distribute food.
To women!
as I read tales of mother’s love and love abused
and females damaged,
forgotten,
women achieving great things. To the
by ~RedefineReality
Favourites
A Glimpse4:13by ~rtcc
Product of a Failed Eden Children of a Failed Eden We are the product &nbsProduct of a Failed Eden
by ~phantom909
Love Song of the Other HalfYou said you had defined yourself In the crooks of my elbows, in the angle of my nose. I looked in the mirror and found the curves of me To be very much my own.Love Song of the Other Half
. . .
I would catch your eyes from across a room, Across an ocean and beyond a beach, And hold them there for precious, fragile seconds In a dire reluctance to move Lest my return be skewed, construed as something More than coffeepots or the metal feet of desks.
. . .
Burn pictures of me now as the fog rolls in on mouse feet Pray to God and science that they can lead you Dra
by ~MsCellanea
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- 87 The Lit Crit Contest - Jan 13, 2008
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- Current Residence: Eugene, Oregon
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