writing

An Abecedarian Poem for the Fourth of July

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

As many celebrate this day

because they see it as a joyous

cry in praise of the

day the United States declared

emancipation from English tyranny,

free to be its own country, self

governed, no longer ruled by kings,

humans, Black, enslaved,

indigenous, find celebration difficult.

Jefferson, in The Declaration of Independence,

knowingly called Native People

lacking in worth,

“merciless Indian Savages,”

never considering the contradictions, the

overt irony when compared to his view that

people are created equal.

Qualified, white male landowners, the

rich, voted, prospered.

Slaves, counted as only 2/3 a person, were

told to obey, work til death, be Christian.

Until all, regardless of race, gender, religion, are

valued as worthy humans, are free to prosper, can

walk proud throughout the United States,

xenophobia will destroy our founding ideals.

Yearn for, work toward, equity, kindness, be

zealous in our quest for a better country.

An Abecedarian Poem for Juneteenth

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

All slaves did not know freedom

because the powers in Texas

could not, or more likely,

did not want them to know.

Eventually, three years after Emancipation,

freedom came to Texas, June 19,1865, in

Galveston when General Grange proclaimed

henceforth enslaved people could not be

illegally held as property so Texas

joined the nation acknowledging that

keeping slaves was illegal.

Long held in bondage in Texas

many formerly enslaved rejoiced,

now looking forward to a better future.

Opposition arose almost immediately.

People did not want non-whites to hold power,

quickly responded by making new laws

requiring the formerly enslaved to

stay quietly in their homes.

They were informed no public gatherings allowed

under threat of arrest.

Void of the choices, they were forced to

work for low wages.

Xenophobia continues to reign,

youth taught Emancipation but not this.

Zany as it seems, 159 years later, prejudice continues.

Book 22 for 2024: “The Reluctant Fundamentalist”, Mohsin Hamid

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Written in an unusual style, the narrator, the main character, tells his story to an American visiting Pakistan. While they are sitting eating dinner and later walk to a hotel, the narrator relates his life as an immigrant who found US life too shallow, too focused on profit. The narrator, a young, Pakistani man with an Ivy League degree, attains the heights of success in the US, working in a highly desirable career position where he is the star. After 9/11 occurs, he questions who he is, what working in this sought after career means, whether it is even ethical to work in a position for a firm whose job it is to investigate companies, their profits, and ruin the lives of the people who work there. He is sent to Chile to investigate a literary firm, meets the manager who takes him under his wing and helps him look at what he is doing in a totally different light. Is money everything? Do the lives of ordinary workers matter? In addition, it is a love story. He meets a beautiful, young, wealthy, US woman, they develop a close friendship, and he discovers she is not mentally stable and does everything he can to help her.

While on the surface this appears to be a story of a young immigrant who does not ultimately fit in with US life, it is much more. It raises the questions of the definition of success, of what love is, of profit over humanity.

A Tribute to My Mother

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Barbie Doll

Barbara Lewis Duke, pretty, petite, blue eyed and blond, my

mother, one fearless, controlling woman. Long after Mom’s

death, Dad said, “Barbara was afraid of absolutely no one

and nothing.” They married late, 34 and 38. He adored her

unconditionally. She filled my life with horses, music, love,

cornfields, hay rides, books, ambition. Whatever she felt she

had missed, my sister and I were going to possess: books,

piano lessons, a college education. Her father, who died long

before I was born, loved fancy, fast horses. So did she. During

my preschool, croupy years, she quieted my hysterical night

coughing with stories of run away horses pulling her in a wagon.

With less than one hundred pounds and lots of determination,

she stopped them, a tiny Barbie Doll flying across the Missouri

River Bottom, strong, willful, free.

Note: This poem about my mother has been published in at least one anthology and my book of poetry. My mother loved roses, had a rose garden. I now grow roses too.

Poems

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

I started out thinking I would write a poem per day for National Poetry Month. Well, I’m a bit behind on that, but here are two of several I have written so far.

Spring

The mockingbird awakens me with his song.

A hummingbird, dressed in green with an iridescent

orange collar, flits by my head then sips nectar

from a scarlet bougainvillea blossom.

The neighborhood barn owl hoots at dawn and dusk.

A black and red/orange bird I’ve never seen before

lights on a palo verde limb.

A Western Bluebird dips its beak repeatedly in

the talavera birdbath.

Remember

In this world steeped in senseless violence remember

each day to find a piece of beauty:

-rosebuds opening

-the scent of jasmine

-a friend’s smile

-a bit of birdsong

In this world ravaged by wars remember

each day to find the jewels of joy:

-listen to a child’s laughter

-dance to a favorite song

-walk in the morning sunshine

-tell someone you love them

Ovid

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

This is poem two for National Poetry Month. A friend wrote a poem following the prompt to write a poem about a book the writer has not read for a long time. She wrote about The Scarlet Letter. My poem is about the book, An Imaginary Life.

The Roman Emperor Augustus saw Ovid’s poetry as subversive,

a power threat. He exiled Ovid to a remote corner of the Empire,

somewhere over by the Black Sea, the Carpathian Mountains,

among the destitute, the superstitious, people who did even know

how to read or write. They believed in witches, feared ghosts, saw

evil in everything and everyone different. Different equaled

death.

Paid to host Ovid, the village leader teaches him to ride horses

bareback, hunt, become stronger. Ovid transforms from a weak

revolutionary who hates this place to one who sees the barren

beauty, wanders in the forests, plants a wildflower garden,

survives.

While hunting, they see barefoot tracks in snow, tracks

of a feral child, a boy. Ovid fears for him, finds him,

rescues him. An accident occurs. The villagers blame

the boy, want to kill him. He and Ovid escape,

wander far into the northern wilds, into

infinity.

Book 11, 2024: ” Frida’s Fiestas: Recipes and Reminiscences of Life with Frida Kahlo”

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

The author of this book, Guadelupe Rivera, is the daughter of Diego Rivera by the woman to whom he was married before he married Frida. Diego went on a trip to Russia and his then wife, the author’s mother, became attached to her previous boyfriend, the poet Jorge Cuesta. She and Diego divorced and then he married Frida. Eventually, the two couples became friendly and at one point they all lived in the same house.

Thirteen years after Diego married Frida, the author moved in with them. This book details her life living with Frida and her father, how Frida learned to cook, how she decorated the Blue House in Coyoacan, the fiestas, the food, the adventures. The book includes photos and recipes of Frida and Diego’s favorite foods, photos of the house, and places the author visited with Frida. It is also a story of many of Mexico’s famous people at the time.

I own several books about Frida but this one is the most revealing and intimate in many ways. If you like Mexican food and find the life and art of Frida and Diego of interest, read this book.

Note: It was also written by the journalist Pierre Marie-Colle with photos by Ignacio Urquiza.

A Book a Week-43: “Desertion”, Abdulrazak Gurnah

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

Gurnah, a native of Zanzibar, won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2021. This is the second of his novels I have read. Both deal with colonial Africa and the effects of colonialism on both individuals and countries, especially in East Africa.

In 1899, a British man, Pearce, stumbles out of the desert and collapses near the shop of a local businessman, Hassanali. His sister, Rehana, saves Pearce. This sparks a love affair, the results of which have long lasting effects on several families, not only for Pearce and Rehana, but for lovers and individual family members two generations later.

It is also a tale of governments immediately after independence and their failures. Additionally, it addresses “forbidden” love and its effects on those who genuinely love each other but cannot pursue their love. The effects are not only immediate but long lasting, affecting others not just the two lovers.

One Book a Week-26: “Holding Fire: A Reckoning With The American West”, Bryce Andrews

/ Juliana Lightle / Leave a comment

If you LOVE the West, but sometimes struggle with its violent history, this is the memoir for you. Here is a quote from page 178: “I’m embarrassed at how long it has taken me to notice that a rancher’s view of the natural world is blindered in comparison to the hunter’s perspective; that driving livestock from one field to another is nothing like stalking free-ranging herds; that finding, gathering, and preparing a hundred different wild plants bears no resemblance to growing alfalfa or oats…”

Andrews also discusses the difference between sustainability and reciprocity. Before reading the book, I had never thought about this. He notes that sustainability is taking without damaging. Reciprocity entails giving back, e.g. nature, asking, “What can I give back? What can I do to take care of this place that feeds and shelters me?” This is quite different from “How much can I sustainably take?”

Andrews grew up in the West. However, after cowboying on several ranches in Montana, hunting annually, and later inheriting his grandfather’s Smith and Wesson revolver, he begins to question the gun violence and destructiveness of Western culture. This book details his journey. He continues to live on a farm in the Montana mountains, slowly transforming the land to make it profitable but also a place for nature, for wildlife to prosper.