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Hilda Silverman
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Rachel CorrieWhatever words might have been adequate
have become a high fluting cry
like the keening whit-tu-tu
of the unseen bird outside
my window. All day I have been trying
to break free from the bulldozer's
blade, piled earth, steel treads fracturing
skull and chest, that moment of resistance
and protest, stilled frame reverberating
beyond the moment, like the kid
in Tiananmen Square before the tank.
Her bright orange jacket
and megaphone.
Her kind and tired eyes.
All day I have been pierced
by the high note of helplessness,
the ragged beat of despair.
Shrouded body with its blur of blood.
The quiet hands of mourners
bearing her, flag-sheathed, across the town.
*
And why was she there?
Ask the ones whose truths she saw
and sought to speak. Ask the child
sitting atop slanting slabs
of concrete - debris of his demolished home.
Ask the husband of the pregnant woman
trapped beneath crushing rubble,
the neighbor's bulldozed house
bringing their own walls down,
who cradled her toddler as she died.
Ask the families - hundreds
huddled in wind-ripped tents
homes wrecked without warning
to make way for the separation wall.
Ask the ones who aren't American
and don't make the morning news.
*
Whatever words we have are useless
against this cruel weight. The bird's cry
keens from every crack in the edifice
of history. Before she died, Rachel Corrie wrote
of the privilege granted her, an outsider,
but denied to those under occupation.
"I have a home.
I am allowed to go see the ocean."
In memory of Rachel Corrie, 23
years old, member of the International Solidarity Movement,
killed by an Israeli bulldozer while trying to prevent demolition
of a Palestinian
family's house.
Zakiyah D. Bilal
Dear, Dear Family of Rachel
There are no words to express
my sorrow. But in the silence, please know that my heart reaches
out to yours. Now your dear Rachel belongs to all of us. We all
are united
with her in a love that will never end. I pray for you as I recommit
myself
to live for peace and justice. I believe with all of my heart
that you will
see your beloved Rachel again. Please accept my sincere condolences.
Rachel, Dear Rachel
African slaves who longed to taste freedom
Left us a road map in a song
"Oh Mary don't you weep
Oh Mary, don't you weep
Pharoah's army got drowned
Oh Mary don't you weep"Contemporary freedom fighters
We follow the map as we defy as you did
The brutal sting of tyranny
We still lift our voices
As we place our bodies,
As fragile weapons
Between the dispossessed
And the powerful armies
Of the modern Pharoahs
Oh Mary don't you weepThey broke your back, sweet Rachel
But now you are part of our backbone
Of steely resolve to stand strong as you stood
Oh Mary, don't you weep
They crushed your skull kind Rachel
But now you are a light in our consciousness
As we think freely and clearly as you thought
Oh Mary, don't you weep
They destroyed your young body
But they failed to break
Your primordial heart
Or dim the bright lantern
Aflame in your immortal soul
Oh Mary, don't you weep
We claim your light
As part of our heartbeat and soul force
And we reach out and strive for your purity
And we remember
That it has been written
Blessed are the pure in heart
For they shall see God
Oh Mary, don't you weep
Dear Beloved friend, Rachel
We are certain
That you are whole again
Healed and healing
Oh Mary, don't you weep
So as we say farewell to you
Lovely and Loving Rachel
Who left us an updated map
Through the treacherous terrain of oppression
We comfort ourselves with a slave song
Oh Mary, don't you weep