Twelfth Day

Jeremiah 25.15-17, 27-29

25

15 These were the words that YHWH, the God of Israel, said to me: "Accept from my hand this cup of wrath, and make all the nations to whom I send you drink it. 16 Once they drink it, they will stagger and go out of their minds because of the sword I am sending among them."

17 So I accepted the cup from YHWH's hand and made all the nations drink it, all the peoples to whom YHWH sent me[.]

27 Then God said to me, "Tell the people that YHWH, the God of Israel, says this: 'Drink, get drunk and vomit, fall down and get up no more because of the sword I am sending among you.' 28 And if they refuse to accept the cup from your hand to drink, say to them: 'Thus says YHWH Omnipotent: You must drink it! 29 See, I begin by bringing disaster on the city breaking my Name; and you think you are going to be exempt? No, you will not be, for I summon a sword against all the inhabitants of the earth, declares YHWH Omnipotent."

[ summer / winter ]

is the worst time to lose a

[ country / lover ]

by George Abraham (b. 1994)

from “Wildness” Issue 10 (October, 2017)

after Joy Harjo

yes, that was me you saw unraveling in the snowfall that mid-February night: teardop crystalizing on phone glass; snow's emptiness mimicking the negative of me;

yes, it was angelic, almost: how under the right stratosphere, water becomes memory of body but never the grief it cradled-

you were inside with the others, perhaps, drunk off your own sweat, learning the shape of an unfamiliar body; a warmth to colonize & become-

or maybe you were a vague acquaintance, who on another day, would have stopped and asked if i needed a hug: a simple touch to take the world away-

yes, that was me you saw bleeding into a kuffiyah the summer i lost a country.

that was my voice, bursting through your speakers at the vigil; the liberal zionists crying as the other Palestinian boy lists off the friends & family lost in the massacre-

yes, that was me you heard at that ivory tower reception, ranting into a microphone about colonization, and my body, and the colonization of my body. did i ruin your dinner conversation? i sure hope i didn't disturb your evening by existing-

that was me you heard quivering in the shower at 3 AM, midsummer; water dancing across body, musicless, shedding its bloodied petals-

yes, he entered my ill-defined borders;

yes, he made a country of me;

yes, he was mine for the taking.

yes, that was me you saw on the ledge of the 3rd floor dorm room window. my legs, dangling over the edge icicles melting above you, the brief moment before the collapse.

it would have been such a spectacle: you, stone-shocked & frigid, silent as a gargoyle, succumbing to the wind like a fallen angel-

yes, that was me you saw praying at the back of the funeral procession; my family, small & hollow before their christ, silent as falling petals; as the rose i kissed & let go as they lowered Her body into the earth-

yes, She taught me how to laugh, even at funerals: to exist loudly, even when grief out-weighs the clouds above us-

that was me you saw dancing that night, drunk & faded with my cellphone off, not thinking of the calls i'd miss nor the ways my body failed me in that moment: not even my own sweat remembered my name-

or how much of me was lost in a language i did not have-

No. She didn't make it home. Her mother crying through the snow & thick phone static.

Today’s Art Practice

What You’ll Need

From Your Home:

• A pen or pencil for writing.

From Your Envelope:

• Sheet of Lined Paper.

Directions: Today's poem by George Abraham is a response to Joy Harjo's "NO," which we read yesterday. Her poem talks of her experience of living in conflict. In response, Abraham uses Harjo's poem as a template to tell of their own experience of conflict in a different time and setting than Harjo's.

Try writing of your own experience with conflict using the structure given by Harjo: "yes, that was me..." ending with "no..."

If you like, this playlist can help you keep track of time. Once it stops playing, 20 minutes will be over.

Let’s Pray…

from Jesus Christ Superstar’s “Gethsemene”

by Tim Rice

God, thy will is hard

But you hold every card

I will drink your cup of poison

Nail me to your cross and break me

Bleed me, beat me

Kill me

Take me, now!

Before I change my mind