Act locally, think globally was one of the mantras of my youth. Culture is a powerful tool for revolution was another. Those two ideas shaped my growth as an artist in a home with a father who wrote and mother who painted, both of whom worked straight jobs and were also engaged in political struggle. I found those two ideas put into action in the small village of Aterrana, Montoro. Aterrana is a small Italian hamlet about thirty minutes south of Salerno. It is believed to be ancient, perhaps dating back to pre-Roman times. I was told that the population was somewhere around 1000.
Before we left the Casa della Poesia (House of Poetry) in Baronissi, the poem choice and order had been set. As usual, I would read the poems in English and on the screen in back of me would be Rafaella Marzano’s thoughtful Italian translations. The program would begin with a brief introduction by our hosts from La Notte dei Cortili, followed by the director of Casa delle poesia, Sergio Iagulli introducing the House of Poetry and me. The Night of the Courtyards is “a spontaneous gathering of citizens. It was born to reignite the magic of the village of Aterrana (Montoro) by experimenting with moments of gathering based on gifting and volunteering, animated by arts, culture, and a renewed sense of community.” The evening was that and much more.
The couple, Marina and Ivan, who created this event were conscious, it seemed, in every part of their being. When we walked into Cortile Rocco down a long passageway that opened up into a very large courtyard Ella Fitzgerald’s voice was coming out of a record player.
Marina, Ivan and I before reading
Tables were replete with what seemed to be vegetarian antipasti. A good number of people had already gathered were drinking from the (non-disposable) glasses which they had brought from home in this event that was created in a way that would not tax the planet’s ecology. I moved to the front of the huge yard and settled on a hay bale instead of a bench. In front of me was a large screen projecting my picture and a Palestinian flag hanging on one side and the flag of peace draped on the other side.
One of the hosts asked me if I would be willing to do a couple of poems with a young musician, Tiziano Russo, who played a jazz guitar. I asked how old he was, he said 20, although to my jaded eyes he looked younger. I asked, “Can you play?” he somewhat self-consciously smiled and said yes. I said, “OK, how about the last three poems?” Then the reading began. At this point I really want to encourage you to use the link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fR0ZVxqgoPo provided and hit the translation button if needed on YouTube to hear the eloquent words that our hosts open to the evening with. They spoke to an erroneous belief, certainly a mainstay in much of American culture, that poetry was superfluous and of why this event also was created to steer away from consumerism and disposable things. The poem that I was reading during this short YouTube snippet was called breathe. I asked the audience to breathe in and breathe out with me, and they did.
breathe
breathe in
a child has just died
shriveled skin
flat against bone
a simple hunger
and in that saying
another has fallen
breathe out
breathe in
blood runs down
a beaten woman’s face
as a man is beginning
to come inside her
torn vagina
breathe out
breathe in
a mother leaves
her warrior son’s grave
apologies whispered
into the small memorial stone
tears unending
breathe out
breathe in
gray and feeble
hidden on the sheltered side
of a garbage dumpster
an old man coughs up
thick yellow phlegm
shivers and remembers
the last time he saw
his youngest grandchild
then dies cold and alone
breathe out
breathe in
a fist cracks the bones between eyes and nose
a foot shatters the ribcage
a bullet splinters the shoulder
an abandoned landmine amputates the fingers
a grenade opens the chest
breathe out
it doesn’t stop
breathe in
this murder of spirit and flesh
breathe out
this terror
breathe in
this horror
breathe out
it doesn’t stop if you close your eyes
breathe in
it does not stop if you cover your ears
breathe out
it does not matter if you turn away
breathe in
it will meet you at your doorstep
breathe out
it will lay its hands on your family
breathe in
it will be you gasping for breath
breathe out
praying for forgiveness
breathe in
and finally there will be
no more breath
for any of us
breathe out
unless there is breath
for all of us
breathe
(by devorah major from abbracia aperte/with open arms Multimedia Edizione 2022)
The reading went well. I use my scanty Italian to say things like this poem is a true story or tonight this poem is dedicated to Palestine or this is the second to last poem, this the last poem and thank you, thank you very much. The young man did play very well, if shyly, and it would have been really nice had we had any time to rehearse. Instead, we just listened to each other and jammed but it made for a worthy performance.
Pasta, wine, and lively conversations riding on jazz recordings followed. All the attendees were asked to bring their own glass, plate, and cutlery in one effort to think about the ecology of the event. There were two tubs of water before one left the courtyard via a long hallway. One was full of soapy water and the other clean water so you could wash off your dishes before you took them home.
But creating the event was a community endeavor. They made posters with excerpts from poems of mine and at one point walked up and down different streets reading my poems in Italian.
i am a teacher of poetry
a guide through contradictions
make yr poem
now make it disappear
the poem lives
Translation: Random Verses
in that flash
between becoming and dissolving (from the poem “poetry teacher”)
Space, food, benches, promotion were all community efforts. No wonder the place was packed with people. They used culture to spread a message of why we should come together, how we should come together, what things we needed to be paying attention to. Acting locally, thinking globally using culture as a tool, with entertainment being, at best, a strategy. The evening reminded me that all over the world there are people getting together, living with humane values and in various ways creating community, lifting awareness, and making change. We exist like spiders spinning webs that are sturdy roads to freedom when joined with others.