Filed under: women
though i need to post 3 poems, this one needs to be posted by itself…
myriad & mired mythologies (in response to Wangechi Mutu’s art)
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett
Mama Wangechi/
your art haunts me/ & not in a good way/
it assaults my eyes & my senses b/c it strips me
down to my base elements/
my tendrils & tails/ tales & horns
can not hide beneath ageless
smooth brown skin/ hair maintained by me & she/
clothing picked out to diminish this & accentuate that
w/i the femme mystique
you catch my gaze/ both viewer & viewed/
& force me to see the ugliness
in my beauty/
the blood & pain needed for
me to feature here/
on this canvas/ in this particular time
I am above/ below
servant/ served
foreground/ background/ ground
there is no part of your art
that is not me/ snaking my way
into & out of my own eyes
your paintings have layers & what is on the surface/ is
just the tip of what you have constructed
what you want me to see
you frighten me &
I sometimes want to scream &
let out the pretty/ pretty that gets lodged in my throat/
stuffed down there by those
who have had the paint
brushes
canvas & my piecemeal parts/
as a muse/ for too long.
i volunteered and worked for calvary women’s services here in Washington, DC for 10 years. you can imagine that i think they are pretty amazing when it comes to providing services for homeless women. i am hoping to facilitate some poetry workshops with the ladies some time soon in preparation for an upcoming fundraiser. here is a piece inspired by calvary’s new home, which you can see for yourself at their next open house. details can be found here.
what she deserves (a poem for Calvary Women’s Services)
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett
she deserves a place
a place of her own
her beauty reflected in walls
masterfully constructed
to hold and protect her dreams
until they are strong enough
to boldly spread their new wings
she deserves a space
a space filled with light
a light that dwells within as well as
that which bubbles out
when she is well fed
well rested
and served well
a light well tended can shine
that much more bright
she deserves to trace
to trace a path of her own
that may have started out rocky
with sudden twists and scary turns
but now settles into a pattern
of tiny triumphs and delights
for things conquered and finally controlled
there is so much that she deserves
simply for daring to open her eyes today
in spite of all that yesterday threw in her face
simply for daring to survive
through the torture
in lieu of the hate
she deserves a home
a home away from home
because when she finally returns there
she deserves
to stay.
we warrior healers…
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett
we have hands
forged like iron
burned and hammered into a grip
that does not yield
our lips spit fierce justice
and unquenchable fire
for tongues burdened with truth
are seldom light
when the only choices are
to be whole
or die
we can only step up and out of now
boldly into a tomorrow we made worth
every bit of today’s fight
to survive.
quiet river woman
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett
not all rivers start below
some find their source on high
cascading down the side of a rock
not unlike her face
quiet river woman
keeps pace
with streams that fall
water gushing down paths created
by a current on the run
droplets tenderly lit by the sun
as it kisses the face of the breeze
quiet river woman
is pleased to know
that there is a cerebral stillness
a clarity of mind only achieved
when the sound of water
in motion
splashes through the spaces between
thought
and word
and deed
this very notion took seed as the
quiet river woman
soaked in the beauty
and felt freed
the blood, when it comes
© 2012 by margaux delotte-bennett
she
her mother
me
all connected by blood
but not that which runs through our veins
connected by blood
cycling through bodies
poised for pregnancy
in time, for she
past time, for her mother
at some time, for me
she ask me why it has to happen
she accepts it as her fate
but needs to know the reason
must understand the rhyme
willing her mind past shock and
towards the rhythms of life
associated with womanhood
the me that also hungered for knowing
tells her about the body’s need to clean
regenerate
ready itself for things
things that make her mother
grow hot in the face
burst into tears
call everyone in the phonebook to announce the change
in her baby
now on the path to full grown
she
her mother
me
all connected by blood
that runs deeper than
9 year old minds can understand
should
understand
can stand before awkward
gross out
nasty-ville feelings
jump through the faces she likes to make
she is quietly resigned to this new way of being
though thinks it’s a little icky to talk about with everyone
under the sun
her mother is freaked
but reaching out for the support
she knows she needs to raise a girl child
knocking on womanhood’s door
the she that is me provided
pamphlets and pep talks
because I knew we would be at this moment
soon
and now it has come
and gone
and left us all
she
her mother
me
forever
connected by blood
but not that which
runs
through our veins
but which cycles through bodies
ready
willing
waiting
one of the many projects i hope to someday realize is a collections of pieces about teen pregnancy and teen parenting from my perspective as an educator and from the perspectives of the teens themselves. all it has right now is a title and some conceptual notes.
afterbirth: reflections on teen pregnancy
I chose the title afterbirth because it is: beautiful, messy, pungent, essential, necessary, nutrient rich, repulsive (to some) and enticing (to some).
and so the dream begins…
afterbirth
© 2012 by margaux delotte-bennett
“you ain’t got no kids?” she asks.
they always ask.
my admission gets the side eye before the
world weary look returns.
she always looks tired beyond her years.
numbly anticipating whatever may be coming next.
a daughter in kindergarten.
baby boy in diapers.
a little girl on the way.
she would look at the other girls in her hood
thinking and sometimes say
“It doesn’t have to be this way.”
but then she sleepily followed along the path
now hers
soon to be theirs too
if they continue to believe that
hope is a form of birth control.
don’t get me wrong.
she is fly.
her kids are clean and well fed.
but she is not well read
and is still unable to finish her GED,
“I just keep getting tripped up on that damn math. That’s all. That’s it.”
we sometimes sit eye to eye
and try to figure out how we got here.
black girl teacher without any kids
black girl student with, about to be, 3
it was not just my degrees that saved me.
that would be too easy.
this is something that a Mensa group may need to break down
and help us comprehend
compute
because despite all the money and attention in the end
cycles have yet to be broken.
things that don’t need to be, are.
her government issued stroller.
her second hand clothes.
her faded tattoo of a rose
on her neck
no longer smelling so sweet.
she has had to retreat behind that numb look
just to make it through today;
to boldly face next week.
did you know that March18th-March 24th is International Anti-Street Harassment Week? well it IS and my creative tribe, The Saartjie Project, will be participating by doing some street theater this Saturday 3/24/12 at 1:30pm near the corner of 7th and G Streets, NW. that is right in the HEART of Gallery Place. the piece i am posting today will be one of the pieces that i will be sharing on Saturday. If you are able to join us, we would love to see your smiling faces! 
words
© 2001 by margaux delotte-bennett
if you don’t have a vagina
it might be hard to understand
how the words, “you’re a fine looking woman!”
can instantly turn from a phrase to seduce
into a noose
snaking its way around my oh so long and pretty
breakable neck
these words aren’t used to lift me up
but to hold me up
face to the wall
legs spread
juices hopefully flowing
who gave them the power?
who gave you the power?
it certainly wasn’t me that taught Zeus
that rape and seduce are synonymous
or teaches soldiers that if you can’t take it by air
take it by sea
or teaches some that ‘no means no’ is registered on a plane that only dogs
seems to unconditionally understand
and who am I to knock flattery?
because apparently someone staring at me
can’t help but see a queen
and when I serenely avoid the advances
I have to take my chances with being called a
stuck up bitch.
I wish I could shake you and make you overstand
the power you wield as a man.
use your words wisely
not on some corner to size up women the likes of me
who can plainly see
this really ain’t where you need to be.
with this being an election year, i plan to do my share to get out the vote. i am a fan of the political process, though flawed, partially because so many marched, sat in and died so that i could raise my voice and elect my representatives. this piece is a work in progress, but i wanted to share it with you as my post of the week. critical feedback is always appreciated…
I vote with my womb
© 2012 by margaux delotte-bennett
I vote with my womb
and the freedom to choose
if and when it will becomes a home for a developing soul
it is my body and
my concern
I vote with my tongue
and the myriad of mouths
it can fill as I choose who will receive my love
recognized or unrecognized by your laws
creed and code
I vote with my skin
sun kissed brown
sometimes despised by not me
Overlooked by other than me
Un- and misrepresented by
anyone but me
I vote with my teeth
jagged edges biting into the dream of this america
we don’t have to be hungry
there is enough
and I deserve my share
and my fill
I vote with my feet
as they romp and stomp their way
along paths they are boldly making
trails not yet beaten down
tracks never straight
roads always less travelled
I vote with my heart
chambers pumping in time
bloodlines past and present
animating this body at this moment to
live life fully demanding all that is earned and owed
I vote
because my life
depends on it
did you know that yours does too?
the NAPOWRIMO Challenge is done! i labored to write 30 poems in 30 days… i lost poem number 29 (somewhere in my house) and poem number 30 never was written. during the month there were a few days when i wrote multiple pieces, so i am content with how i finished out the challenge.
yea for me!
in other news…
The weekend of May 14th and 15th is the debut of the latest Saartjie Project creation, Four Women. we have been practicing and preparing to share our hard work exploring the themes in Nina Simone’s powerful song. The piece that i am posting today is not a part of the show, but it was inspired by it. enjoy!
i still…
(c) 2011 by margaux delotte-bennett
1.
aunt sarah
i still smell his cologne on my skin
i was his first
so he was the worst
because he assumed that a man needed to lead
he had no idea that the seed of a woman’s passion needs to be tended and stroked
instead of just poked
though the memory is fleeting
that scent still makes me choke!
2.
saffronia
i still smell his cologne on my skin
he was trying so hard to impress
that he made such a mess of his new white shirt
when he hugged me
i saw the blue trail of
stolen smell goods over his
shoulder and down his back
though the memory is fleeting
i dig deep and bring it back…
3.
sweet thing
i still smell his cologne on my skin
it was monday afternoon so my sign was in
i was taking some respite from their stares
painting all my nails
curling and plucking stray hairs
then up on my porch did i see
strolled a stranger with looks that surprised me
the greeting was brief
but that afternoon, what a release!
through the memory is fleeting,
it revives me.
4.
peaches
i still smell his cologne on my skin
i scrub the side of my face
my hands
my neck
raw and welted
through i sometimes suspect
his smell is in my nose
my memory
my fear
i did everything right
but it was just my night to suffer
that’s clear…
though the memory is fleeting
it always sits near.
Today is International Women’s Day!
Today is Mardi Gras!
Today is a day to celebrate!
and may we all find a reason to celebrate everyday…
sister friend
© by margaux delotte-bennett
sister friend
moon faced wonder child
star lashed muse
constellations can only copy your shine
in eyes and teeth and mind
you are the best part
you are the climax of life
turned upside down
in a world that is content to just follow along
step by conforming step
leading down a road to no one’s freedom
when it means that you don’t know your ‘fone’
and don’t worry, you’re fine
sister friend
moon faced wonder child
star lashed muse
you made it to today
we must celebrate your spirit
and your truth
your heart beats on
without malice
only light
yesterday, our minds were closed
today, our eyes exposed
tomorrow, our souls transposed into a she
that is not defined on any TV
sister friend
my moon
my star
you made it home
shine on, shine bright
you owe it to you and the wonder child
within
