New poem at Smart Girls as part of our ABCs of Poetry Series. A send off to 2016. ::::::: P for PEACE Elegy for 2016 May this year slip from its battered skin into the fleshless records of prior squalor; into the dictionaries of periphery; a molecule of yore. . May it release us to the pulsing soft light of our future fire’s devour. . May all the pain be taken from our swallowed, scar-sculpture hearts and be given to no one else, not even our worst enemies. . May even our worst enemies be filled with joy in the end. . Enough, pain. Enough. . May those that hate never be their own recipients. May they be loved. . May all the rotting bells of an election’s soured clang gong a riot’s tongue in the mouths of throatless girls. . May we be the revenge choir of our lineage. The sweet spot of sure shots. The extraordinarily ruthless, explosive artists with bombs in our hair and nothing but love, so much love, for everything that keeps trying to kill us. . May compassion be a swell that recedes our nation’s tide. . May we never forget the difference between fighting for ourselves and fighting for every self. . May we have the courage to always choose the latter even in the face of our most cherished privileged fears. . May all sadness cease its wreckless shatter. May sadness get out more. . 2016; year of extinction’s reign. Year of the black rhino’s end, year of Antarctica’s swan song, year of the demon-woman archetype, year of betrayal, year of denial, year of survival. . 2016; you splintered coffin of awe ditching your own funeral, you toothpick clenched in the teeth of hell, you rue of cruelty; you master reflector of the world’s mirrored mire. . 2016; May you rest now. Your damage done. Your joy brought. Your destruction erected. Your twelve month long rip, split. Your hurricane fever, cooled. Your icon death magnets, decharged. (You can’t have Bowie twice, can you.) May you calm, your calamity quenched. . 2016; you broke us. Yes, you broke us. But not apart. Only open. . Like geodes boast, like feathers plume, like petals slope, like lava creates continents, like revolutions speak new language, like newborns tilt hips, like old lovers tug guts...(poem link in bio)

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アンバー・タンブリンのインスタグラム(amberrosetamblyn) - 12月31日 01時06分


New poem at Smart Girls as part of our ABCs of Poetry Series. A send off to 2016. :::::::
P for PEACE
Elegy for 2016

May this year slip from its battered skin
into the fleshless records of prior squalor;
into the dictionaries of periphery;
a molecule of yore.
.
May it release us
to the pulsing soft light
of our future fire’s devour.
.
May all the pain be taken
from our swallowed, scar-sculpture hearts
and be given to no one else, not even
our worst enemies.
.
May even our worst enemies
be filled with joy
in the end.
.
Enough, pain.
Enough.
.
May those that hate
never be their own recipients.
May they be loved.
.
May all the rotting bells
of an election’s soured clang
gong a riot’s tongue
in the mouths of throatless girls.
.
May we be the revenge choir of our lineage.
The sweet spot of sure shots.
The extraordinarily ruthless,
explosive artists with bombs in our hair
and nothing but love,
so much love,
for everything that keeps trying
to kill us.
.
May compassion be a swell
that recedes our nation’s tide.
.
May we never forget
the difference
between fighting for ourselves
and fighting for every self.
.
May we have the courage
to always choose the latter
even in the face
of our most cherished privileged fears.
.
May all sadness cease its wreckless shatter.
May sadness get out more.
.
2016; year of extinction’s reign.
Year of the black rhino’s end,
year of Antarctica’s swan song,
year of the demon-woman archetype,
year of betrayal, year of denial, year of survival.
.
2016; you splintered coffin of awe
ditching your own funeral,
you toothpick clenched in the teeth of hell,
you rue of cruelty; you master reflector
of the world’s mirrored mire.
.
2016; May you rest now.
Your damage done.
Your joy brought.
Your destruction erected.
Your twelve month long rip, split.
Your hurricane fever, cooled.
Your icon death magnets, decharged.
(You can’t have Bowie twice, can you.)
May you calm, your calamity quenched.
.
2016; you broke us.
Yes, you broke us.
But not apart.
Only open.
.
Like geodes boast,
like feathers plume,
like petals slope,
like lava creates continents,
like revolutions speak new language,
like newborns tilt hips,
like old lovers tug guts...(poem link in bio)


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