'for two who slipped away almost entirely' by Leslie Nipps
Last week, I had the honor of attending, staffing, and presenting at the 2013 US Constellations Conference in Seattle. What a wonderful five days! A group of practitioners who are committed to whole-system healing, a way of finding peace that includes everything that is and has been. I am refreshed and full of joy.
I also have been reverberating with many new ideas that have come from this event, and I plan to share more of them in future blog posts. But for now, I simply want to share an Alice Walker poem I heard in the keynote address the last morning by Belvie Rooks. Ms. Rooks is on the board for the Institute of Noetic Sciences who weaves together the worlds of spirituality, ecology, and social and environmental justice in her work. She gave a powerful keynote entitled “Who Am I Really? Rethinking Identity: An Emerging Evolutionary Perspective.”
At the conclusion of her talk, which ended with this poem, I found myself sobbing, aware once again that I am the descendent of perpetrators and victims; that I have been living that conflict, unconsciously, my whole life; and perhaps, in Alice Walker’s vision, it is time for peace for them within me, as I thank them for my life, and their identities acquire a new, truer meaning in the lives of their children.
I hope you find this poem similarly moving:
for two who
slipped away
almost
entirely:
my “part” Cherokee
great-grandmother
Tallulah
(Grandmama Lula)
on my mother’s side
about whom
only one
agreed-upon
thing
is known:
her hair was so long
she could sit on it:
And my white (Anglo-Irish)
great-great-grandfather
on my father’s side
nameless
(Walker, perhaps?)
whose only remembered act
is that he raped
a child;
my great-great-grandmother,
who bore his son,
my great-grandfather,
when she was eleven.
Rest in peace.
The meaning of your lives
is still
unfolding.
Rest in peace.
In me
the meaning of your lives
is still
unfolding.
Rest in peace, in me.
The meaning of your lives
is still
unfolding.
Rest. In me
the meaning of your lives
is still
unfolding.
Rest. In peace
in me
the meaning of our lives
is still
unfolding.
Rest.
Powerful, like a Mack truck in the chest. It rings true in the parts of the body that hold old memories – our heart, our gut, the eyes.
Thank you for sharing & look forward to more posts.
I can hardly breathe, reading these words. My heart almost standing still. Unbelievably powerful. Deeply moving.
I too, find myself feeling like a battle ground at times – for things of which I know nothing about. This is an incredible blessing to read.
Thank you for sharing this,
Lori