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| Original artwork by SK Dapoz |
Alice Myerson planted herself in the boogie down bronx way back when the world was young and has watched the seasons change there ever since. She is a mother, a lover, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a nurse, a nurse practitioner, an hiv specialist, a human rights worker who quietly writes a poem or two, and sometimes even a story on the background of our turbulent, dynamic and ever fascinating world.
Tonka I:
With War
Car blasts thunder through
streets torn asunder, deluged
by razor edged glass.
Baghdad, Beirut, Palestine
swelter in an ashy tide.
Ghosts, donned in live wire,
rifle the fire, thirsty for
water, hidden in
cities, bereft of color,
without tree, without flower.
Disembodied bones
smolder in the molten stones
of rubbish and war.
Baghdad, Beirut, Palestine
splinter in a plague of shrines.
Draped in blood, soaked in
phlegm, an ambulance of gaunt
men run their death load
through rubble roads without the
luxury of fear or grief.
Kicking silent screams
into the mist, a boy spits
war and shakes his fist.
Jericho, Jerusalem,
Nazareth and Bethlehem.
Baghdad, Beirut, Palestine.
Baghdad, Beirut, Palestine.
Tonka 2:
Song For Spring
Discordant to spring,
deaf to its laughter and song,
they left us barren,
staggering in the belly
of an earth stunned by malice.
Breathless, we knelt down,
flooding the acrid soil
in a stream of tears.
The fish moon hung behind us;
our shoulders shook with fury.
We began to dig,
tearing away plastic weeds
florid with decay
until our knuckles bled and
we rested them on a moist
bed of moss wedged in
the roots of a silent tree.
We worked in the eye
of dawn, our fingertips soaked
soft in tiny pools of dew
until nature’s seeds
were born again and the wind
carried them through fields
that pulsed with the aromas
of the pungent air of spring.
asm
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