VERSE / Felix Shafer : hey, marilyn

hey, marilyn

From august

through Black august

the drum beat us

all black and blue

and back again

where we live

inside shadows

with you

*

Here on the sad

fuming planet

comes a laughing ghost

beloved fugitive

our first anniversary

spun from these burning strands

our sensitive memory

of the afterlife without you

oh marilyn

a toast to your year

a salute to our tears

for the shadow of the panthers

cetewayo, shasha

smitty, dc and g (eronimo)*

now passing by



*

Here in my heart

a branch of middle summer

intermingles the past

with life’s juggly light

flowing like fire

over the river wide

your red kite

tangled, unescaped

high among

the maple trees

We are your family

the red blood cells

in & out of prison cells

the red resistance cells

grouped by transience

side by side

overcoming

great misfortune

in the lonely outside

*

Last night I dreamed

of walking down storied halls

a familiar house

after the typhoon

people known by their resemblances

returned, some drained of smiles

some doing yoga

some replacing mislayed objects

overcome in bedrooms

A daring girl led me closer to the last window

beyond where I can see

There where the backyard

ought to be

was the outdoor visiting patio

of FCI Dublin

*

We come to recollect your absence

with ourselves

to feel your palm

resting on each hand

To receive your

loving encouragment

and your example:

That to live we must risk ourselves

for the uncertain future

with dignity

*

Marilyn because

you were charming

and unb0wed

because you had

miles of style and acres of smiles

because you were a generous

citizen of earth

sister and god mother

I am throwing open the door

to release the bars

to forget the cancer and the tears

so that I can see

your shining face

*

When it’s quiet

when i lay deep down to sleep

i whisper kindness and

when I rise up

i sing of how

you wanted us to be happy and strong

when we were with you

Now a year after you have gone

I will We will

felix shafer 8.3.11



* Michael Cetewayo Tabor, Henry ShaSha Brown, Marc Smitty Smith, Don Cox and geronimo ji Jaga pratt are freedom fighters associated with the Black Panther Party & some with the Black Liberation Army who passed in the year since Marilyn died

Marilyn Buck — political prisoner, acclaimed poet, former Austinite, and former original Ragstaffer — was paroled last August after spending 30 years in federal prisons. But, after only 20 days of freedom, on August 3, 2010, Marilyn died of a virulent cancer.

Felix Shafer became an anti-imperialist/human rights activist while in high school during the late 1960’s and has worked around prisons and political prisoners for over 30 years. He is a psychotherapist in San Francisco and can be reached at felixir999@gmail.com. Read Felix Shafer’s three-part Rag Blog series, “Mourning for Marilyn Buck.”

Why We Sing




By Mario Benedetti

If every hour comes with its death


if time is a den of thieves


the wind is no longer a good


and life is nothing more than a moving target

you might ask, why do we sing?

if our bravos are left without support


our homeland dies from sorrow


and the heart of man is smashed to pieces


even before the shame explodes

you might ask, why do we sing?

if we’re as far away as the horizon


and if over there were left the trees and the sky


if every night is always some sort of absence


and if every waking is a missed encounter

you might ask, why do we sing?

We sing because the river is calling


and when the river calls, the river calls


we sing because cruelty has no name


and destiny does have a name

we sing because the child and because all


and because someday and because the people


we sing because the survivors


and our dead want us to sing

we sing because to shout is not enough


and the crying and the cursing is not enough


we sing because we believe in people


and because we will defeat failure

we sing because the sun recognizes us


and because the fields smell of spring


and because in this stalk in that fruit


every question has its answer

we sing because it rains over the furrows


and we are the militants of life


and because we neither want nor can


allow the song to be turned to ashes.

Mario Benedetti (Sept. 14, 1920 – May 17, 2009) a Uruguayan poet, journalist, and novelist, was considered one of Latin America’s most significant authors. Active in radical movements, he went into exile in 1973 when the military, backed by the U.S. CIA, took power. For 10 years, Benedetti lived in Argentina, Peru, Cuba, and post-Franco Spain. Mario Benedetti returned to Uruguay in 1983, yet lived for long periods in Madrid, Spain. Exile marked his life profoundly and one of his most important works is El Desexilio y Otras Conjeturas (Dis-exile And Other Conjectures, 1984). Marilyn Buck, who wrote about the internal exile of imprisonment, considered Mario Benedetti one of her favorite writers.

The Rag Blog