6/13/16 10:44 pmpirms kāda laika es citēju dzejnieci warsan shire, un tikko atklāju, ka viņa ir autore arī šimwhat they did yesterday afternoon by warsan shire they set my aunts house on fire i cried the way women on tv do folding at the middle like a five pound note. i called the boy who used to love me tried to ‘okay’ my voice i said hello he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened? i’ve been praying, and these are what my prayers look like; dear god i come from two countries one is thirsty the other is on fire both need water. later that night i held an atlas in my lap ran my fingers across the whole world and whispered where does it hurt? it answered everywhere everywhere everywhere. |
running to stand still
there must be a light that never goes out
6/5/16 10:49 pmes joprojām līdz galam nezinu, ko nozīmē ''Lemonade'' - tik vien kā to, ka tas ir ļoti nozīmīgs pavērsiens tajā jomā, ko es tā kā pētu. (bet, godīgi sakot, man šodien vairs pat nebija ne jausmas, par ko īsti es rakstu) taču es tikko atradu to tekstu transkriptu, ko Beyonce saka starp dziesmām, tekstu autore ir Warsan Shire.(un, neraugoties uz to, ka es esmu ļoti, ļoti nogurusi, man rīt ir jāiesniedz maģ darbs, ko man vairs nav spēka vispār skatīties, un mani ir pārņēmušas pārpasaulīgas skumjas un apātija, kas drošvien ir saistāms ar to, ka smadzene ir vienkārši uzkārusies, es lasu šos tekstus un pat tā kā jūtos pārsteidzoši aizkustināta. tā līdz asarām. bet, iespējams, tas ir arī saistāms ar to, ka šodien kārtējo reizi izdomāju, ka vajadzētu kaut ko pašai sākt darīt, ne tikai kūrēt un pētīt. bet es to arī izdomāju tik daudz reizes iepriekš, un es šodien Džimam stāstīju vēl vienu ideju, ko atkal biju izdomājusi no nulles, bet Džims atgādināja, ka esmu to jau iepriekš izdomājusi. kaut kādos lokos pašas atmiņas un domas iet, un tam nav nekāda sakara vairs ar šiem tekstiem, tik vien kā tas, ka galva pilna ar abiem.) |
11/20/14 12:18 pmI Know Why the Caged Bird SingsThe free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wings in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom The free bird thinks of another breeze an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom. / Maya Angelou |
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