The second day of camp found us at the main corridor to the Rattlesnake Wilderness Area. The morning was cool and hazy and we spent our first fifteen minutes walking in silence, one at at time, up the trail. The girls were asked to let their sense fill with what was immediately in front of them. They were encouraged to be in the moment. When we arrived at our first site, they wrote four lines about the sensory experiences of their silent morning. From there, we looked at the Malaysian form, the pantoum, and the girls took it from there.
Morning Pantoum
by Estrella
The sound of my feet crunching rocks on the path below me
The morning air is my cup of coffee, making the world feel alive
The constant sound of the rippling creek, tumbling over stones
Birds sing to each other, promising a perfect summer day
The morning air is my cup of coffee, making the world feel alive
Now I smell harsh chemicals, filling the air with wispy smoke
Birds sing to each other, promising a perfect summer day
Now I hear engines, grumbling to life with the push of a button
Now I smell harsh chemicals, filling the air with wispy smoke
And now I wish I smelled the fresh, clean Earth
Now I hear engines grumbling to life with the push of a button
And soon there will be no more birds promising perfect summer days
Notice
by Kine
Nature does not keep its secrets
If you listen and don't disrupt
Trees will bend and weep for you
Let the chatter of your mind go
If you listen and don't disrupt
You will know more than what you once did
Let the chatter of your mind go
Secrets will not be kept
You will know more than you once did
Notice the details of the green fluorescent tufts that hang from tree limbs
Secrets will not be kept
See the way you never saw before
Notice the details of the green fluorescent tufts that hang from tree limbs
Admire simple flaws
See the way you never saw before
Open a doorway to soil and tulips
See the whimsical ways in which to see
Nature does not keep its secrets
Open a doorway to soil and tulips
Trees will bend and struggle for you
From their we hiked in partners, discussing our emotional strengths and flaws, moving to physical loves and dislikes. Those conversations served as a springboard for looking at Marge Piercy's poem, Barbie Doll. The children used her style and tone to focus on telling self-image stories of their own.
Ballerinas
by Antigone
I have a cousin.
She is long legs and thick hair,
excitement and loving.
She was a dancer,
though she isn't anymore,
lacy pink shoes
hair twisted into a bun
her chipping clear nail polish,
excitement and long legs.
She twirled across the floor and smiled,
and then fear came in.
He crept into the room like an assassin,
staying in the corners,
waiting until she looked in
the long hard mirror,
to finally catch a stray strand of hair,
climb it,
and seep in to her brain.
He proceeded slowly, first to her thighs
in their scratch pink tights,
and made them fat.
She started and stared.
Fear didn't leave.
Her legs stayed fat.
She stared and stared
at all the other girls,
with their belly's sucked in,
arms the color of fat free milk,
and legs the color of salad without dressing.
She looked down at herself.
Fear tiptoed a bit further towards her stomach fat.
That night at her house, she made us cookies.
I asked if she was going to have one.
She looked at me,
long legs and thinning hair,
smiled sweetly and said,
no thanks, I'm not hungry.
Duff Me
by McKenna
The little boy with the red hair,
the melting, watery chocolate brown eyes,
and pale freckled skin
poked my arm today.
Snakes, green and dripping venom
slithered from his mouth and
splattered on to my arm,
my pale, freckled arm.
"You have really hairy armssss....."
they hissed.
Then the boy turned and left.
The snakes, cobras, slithering up to
swap and hypnotize my vulnerable
cowering, yellow soul
whispered in my ear,
"Wear nothing but long sleeved shirts,
my lovely,
they are your straight jacket,
they will restrain the disdain of others."
I believed the snakes
with my whole bleeding heart.
I wore my straight jacket everyday,
fiddled with my sleeves,
wondering it their disgust would ever
pack up the snakes,
in cages meant for nightmares
and leave me in peace.
Long sleeves grew extensions
suffocating my ankles in
burning blue denim in
hazy summer heat.
High necklines grew vines,
entwining my hair,
combing and brushing and combing
day in and day out,
finally braiding their blackening tendrils
into hair ties, more and more hair ties,
elastic, prickly, tangled in brown
dreadlocks hidden under a skull cap
that everyone but I
knew was toxic, a skull painted in
the corner,
my straight jacket needed to be hidden as well,
and a fleece,
soft and comforting,
always there and always room to
spare in its sleeves,
hid my hiding clothes.
All through the years
the snake whispered in my ear,
telling me that these handcuffs
and this burlap bag that smelled
of salty tears,
that covered my head,
and that this full body cast was
worth it...
Two years later,
a little boy with brown hair,
freezing, candy blue eyes
and tan, sun-kissed skin
poked my arm,
his pencil dug into my skin,
my pale, freckled skin,
and wasps buzzed out of his mouth,
landing on my arm.
"You have really hair armsssss..."
"I've heard this one before,"
I say.
I pinch the wasp between my
thumb and index finger,
that still have a green stain on their
finger tips.
I crumple my hat, my toxic skull cap
in my fist and shake out my hair.
"Thank you,"
I say with a smile.
"I'm glad you noticed."
That's How I Want to Be
by Estrella
That's how I want to be! said all the girls
Skinny legs. Flat stomach.
Picture perfect face.
Stunning makeup. Red, pouty lips.
Gorgeous eyes, covered in mascara and eyeshadow.
Glossy, dazzling smile,
Perfectly curled strawberry blond hair.
That's how I want to be! said all the girls.
Fitted dress to show off her chest.
That's how I want to be! said all the girls.
Big house.
Expensive car.
Beach house, vacations, ski trips.
That's how I want to be! said the girls.
However, this perfect girl had a problem.
She wasn't happy.
She didn't laugh anymore.
Her smile was painted on,
her eyes didn't twinkle when
her brother cracked a joke.
She never enjoyed her favorite foods.
Gone was the perfectly content girl.
She had been replaced by the idea of perfection.
Where nutrition didn't matter,
meals were meant to be skipped,
expensive makeup was bought to hide any flaws.
And finally,
the girl had enough.
So she took off her mask,
unzipped her gorgeous dress,
stepped out of her heels,
and laughed at her brother's lame jokes
once again.
Spotlights
by Eliana
Spotlights shine a blinding white.
A girl stands in front of a white curtain.
Tackle boxes of makeup are brought in.
Foundation and concealer,
eyeliner,eyeshadow, mascara, blush,
bronzer, lipstick, coverup, and
shame
are aligned neatly inside
women in plain shirts
and plastic name tags
hold brushes
with green marble handles and
feathery end.
Powder fills the air and the girl coughs
eyebrows are ripped off with wax.
When they are done,
you wouldn't recognize her.
She wouldn't recognize herself.
Cameras flash at the girl,
standing in front of the white curtain.
Photo editors are brought in,
smaller feet and skinnier legs are needed for this girl,
bigger butt,
wider hips,
flatter stomach,
thinner arms,
bigger chest,
better posture,
smaller ears,
longer eyelashes,
higher cheek bones,
a different face.
The girl watches the editors pick her apart.
She wonders why she is here at all.
Then she washes her face and leaves.
Globs of foundation plug the sink.
When she got home
she took a pair of craft scissors,
thinned her legs and waist.
She was sent to the hospital because of blood loss.
The doctors nodded and said that they
understood completely.
She needed a thigh gap.
They understand.
The girl stared
as the doctors stitched her thin waist.
Metal staples ran up her bony legs.
The doctors patted her pack.
Said they were proud of her.
The girl stared as she was wheeled
out of the clean hospital room.
Her ugly, edited face stared back at her
from every magazine cover.
Her parents said she was even
prettier than before.
But little girls in the hospital lobby
stare
in admiration and horror,
chubby hands covering their open mouths.
The skinny girl in the hospital bed
shakes her head at them
terrified of herself,
shakes her head faster.
The girl ripped out the thick staples
in her leg and cried,
dripping dark mascara
smearing her clear face
"Give me a washcloth!"
she screamed.
She hated this mask of powdery perfection
hated this fake face.
"Give me a washcloth!" she screamed.
The doctors stared in horror.
No comments:
Post a Comment