Our prompt was: โWrite about being part of a group.โ
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
El texto que escogimos para hoy fue La Condiciรณn Humana por Renรฉ Magritte.
La propuesta de escritura fueEscribe sobre un descubrimiento inesperado.
Aquรญ, ahora alentamos a los participantes que si asรญ lo desean, compartan lo que escribieron a continuaciรณn. Deja tu respuesta aquรญ, si deseas continuar la conversaciรณn. Pero antes, les recomendamos tener en cuenta que el blog es un espacio pรบblico donde, por supuesto, no se garantiza la confidencialidad.
Our prompt was: โWrite about what you remember.โ
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
"Remember" byJoy Harjo
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star's stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is.
Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother's, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people and all people
are you.
Remember you are this universe and this
universe is you.
Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is, that life is.
Remember.
Copyright ยฉ1983 by Joy Harjo
from She Had Some Horses by Joy Harjo.
Used by permission of W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.
Our prompt was: โWrite about getting in trouble.โ
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
Heart On Fireโby Ada Limรณn
As a foster child, my grandfather learned not
to get in trouble. Mexican and motherlessโdead
as she was from tuberculosisโhe practiced words
in a new language and kept his slender head down.
When the other boys begged him to slip into
the music shopโs upper window to steal harmonicas
for each of them, music being important, thievery
being secondary, he refused. When the cops came
to spot the boys who robbed the music store, they
could easily find the ones spitting broken
notes into the air, joyously mouthing the stainless
steel, mimicking men on street corners busking
for coins. But not my grandfather, he knew not
to risk it all for a stolen moment of exaltation.
Itโs easy to imagine this is who I come from, a line
of serious men who follow the rules, but might I add
that later he was a dancer, a singer, an actor whose best roles
ended up on the cutting room floor. A cutup, a ham
who liked a good story. Who would have told you
life was a series of warnings, but also magic. Once,
he was sent for a box of matches and he put that box
of strike-anywheres in the pocket of his madras shirt
and ran home, he ran so fast to be on time, to be good,
and when he did so, the whole box ignited, so he was
a boy running down the canyon road with what
looked like a heart on fire. Heโd laugh when he told
you this, a heart on fire, heโd say, so youโd remember.
Limรณn, Ada. The Hurting Kind. (2022) โHeart On Fireโ p.62. Minneapolis: Milkweed Edition.
Our prompt was: โThe beautiful thing that just happened is…โ
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
At Blackwater Pond โ by Mary Oliver
At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have
settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?
Copyright ยฉ 2006 - 2010 Famous Poets And Poems .
Our prompt was: Start with “I will not apologize...”
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
"This Here Flesh" byCole Arthur Riley
"Rest is an act of defiance, and it cannot be predicated on apol-
ogy. It's the audacity to face the demands of this world and
proclaim, We will not be owned.
We will not return to the chains that once held us. They are
brittle and tarnished from our tears, which made the flood.
Remember. You were never meant to prove your dignity. You,
whose flesh contains more bodies than your own. You don't
belong in the catacombs of restlessness, wandering from death
to death. Lie down with me in the pasture, where life is alive
and growing with the unapologetic slowness of a blade of
grass. What will become of us?
We will be free and we will be dreaming."
Credit: This Here Flesh by Cole Arthur Riley (page 157)
Nos reunimos 3 participantes, desde Argentina y Nueva York.
El poema de esta sesiรณn fue โFortunaโ, escrito por Ida Vitale. Primero vimos el poema leรญdo por la poeta y despuรฉs leรญmos el poema dos veces a voz alta.
Un participante hizo la comparaciรณn a lo que estรก pasando las mujeres en Irรกn. Ellas no tienen estas fortunas. La poeta escribe en Uruguay, pero el tema es aplicable en todo el mundo.
La poeta esta agradecida de las cosas sencillas, pero cuando uno no tiene estas cosas, estos derechos, la vida es mucho mรกs difรญcil, especialmente para las mujeres (la poeta menciona el matrimonio y ser medida en cabras). Alguien menciono que uno valora las cosas cuando las pierde.
Una participante noto los tres versos finales. ยฟDe quiรฉn habla la poeta cuando escribe las ultimas lรญneas?
Descubrir por ti misma
otro ser no previsto
en el puente de la mirada.
Se supone que ella busca la mirada del otro. Como si el otro fuera un espejo. La mujer no prevista en los demรกs. Libertades que antes no tenรญa. Estรก hablando de lo que ya hizo, del pasado.
Tambiรฉn se notรณ el uso del verbo โserโ en la frase, โNo ser casadaโ. No ser casada no es lo mismo que no estar casado. Ella habla de existir. Este debate nos llevรณ hablar de la definiciรณn de
La propuesta de escritura fue โEscribe sobre tu fortunaโ. Los participantes escribieron en la sombra del poema. Los temas que surgieron fueron el concepto del tiempo y que lo hace a una afortunado. Las escrituras parecรญan parรกbolas.
Aquรญ, ahora alentamos a los participantes que, si asรญ lo desean, compartan lo que escribieron a continuaciรณn.ย Deja tu respuesta aquรญ, si deseas continuar la conversaciรณn sobre el poema de Ida Vitale. Pero antes, les recomendamos tener en cuenta que el blog es un espacio pรบblico donde, por supuesto, no se garantiza la confidencialidad.
Our prompt was: โWrite about what’s hidden or revealed in a shadow.โ
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
Our prompt was: โWrite about a color that has made you weep. โ
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
An Old Story by Tracy K. Smith
We were made to understand it would be
Terrible. Every small want, every niggling urge,
Every hate swollen to a kind of epic wind.
Livid, the land, and ravaged, like a rageful
Dream. The worst in us having taken over
And broken the rest utterly down.
A long age
Passed. When at last we knew how little
Would survive usโhow little we had mended
Or built that was not now lostโsomething
Large and old awoke. And then our singing
Brought on a different manner of weather.
Then animals long believed gone crept down
From trees. We took new stock of one another.
We wept to be reminded of such color.
Credit: poetryfoundation.org
Tracy K. Smith, "An Old Story" from Wade in the Water.
Copyright ยฉ 2018 by Tracy K. Smith.
Our prompt was:ย โWrite about whatโs left behind.โ
More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
Connections in Narrative Medicine 