Louisa Calio ( USA) 

Louisa Calio ( USA) 

Louisa Calio an internationally published, award winning author and photo artist. She won first prize from City of Messina (2013), was finalist for poet laureate of Nassau County(2013), director of  Poets Piazza for Hofstra’s Italian Experience for 12 years, Winner of the “il parnasso” award international Words of Gold, a Connecticut Commission of the Arts  Award for Writers and  Prizes for Poetry in Trinidad and Tobago and honored at Columbia/Barnard as a Feminist who changed American 2nd wave in 2006. Her latest book Journey to the Heart Waters was published by Legas Press (2014) See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louisa_Calio 

 

Come Eat My Roses
 
(Looking for the darkest root
With the thickest juice
Let me swim my way back home, Mother.)
 
I’ve seen the horrors of the wasteland
Yet to come
The famine spoken of
And thought I was bound to repeat
In generations, generations again, the horrors.
 
Cruel acts a mad race, spawning atrocities
Frustration screams rivers
Rivers running through my bloodstream
Ferocious as the forest fire in high winds
I seering, seering SEE
I can make nothing better by speech alone.
I try to fight the confines of my life
Decisions made early stake their claims
 
Consciousness is not a constant thing
Through a continuous vigil.
 
Ours is a time of sewer landscapes
Removed as we on this concrete shore
From the truths Nature teaches.
I see the miniature
The smaller canvas in you and I
Mirrors with double eyes
To see in four to the other side.
Dual dilemmas
Dialectical pulls
That rip my heart.
I follow through
Pushed down to the deepest dark
Past the guarded secrets I am led
Guided by the old mysteries
I am vomited up again.
In relief, I traverse the earth.
 
To see you, to see you clearly
To see you in peace or to see you in war
I see you at the crossroads
I know you may go the terrible way,
by the light of a blood burning sun
We may become scorched earth in famine and drought
If you deny the forces of water
If you kill the rain making powers
The sources of moisture
 
 
Clouded by your monstrous machines
You could set this world on fire.
Paused at the brink, you are the final link
Caught in reason
Dying to believe only what you see in concrete,
A masculine bias.
 
The total epic has been told and retold
Before the Hebrew or the Greek
Through time in other weaves
In other languages
Sounds the same struggle.
 
See me/see me/see me clearly
As I have seen the masculine side
Trying in my childish soul to be the man
Believing he had all the powers
As I was told.
 
Now I am my role and an not
Female/male, no more just the mother
That made you the child too long
Giving you the power
We began to believe you possessed it alone.
Now you must mother me.
For I am just being born.
 
The door is opening
Come, watch me weave
I am mending as my grandmother used to
Join me with your tools
In this woman’s labor
Each new weave better teaches us the old.
There will only be wars before the revolution
So don’t be afraid:
 
Come and take the passion fruit
Ripe and ready
Come eat my roses
Dive into the face o f love
Touch the blood of passion
As it drips from the cup.
 
We cannot be free, until we are freed in all.
(Mother, you say any death diminishes me
Any rebirth is our increase
Then tell me must all the oracles be ignored?
I cannot see. I cannot see at all!)
 
By Louisa Calio 2018
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