Orion Magazine has a news department called Lay of the Land. I am thrilled to be a part of it! My essay, ” At Risk” appears in the new issue! Protecting people and our habitat gives us much to do!
“The “at-risk” label is different for youth than it is for salmon.”
When we stop defining ourselves as other than nature, we will change our priorities and protect ourselves. Check out my article and stay tuned for the next community conversation hosted by Urban Wilderness Project!
Your Body is a Body of Water by Jourdan Keith — YES! Magazine
Nov 14, 2012 … A storyteller asks what you’d do if you knew your body was part of the water web.
You are a body of water.
If you knew this, would you protect yourself?
The water in your body is part of the water cycle and connected to every other body of water.
If you knew this, would you want to protect all the bodies of water on the planet?
I would ask my father this, if he were still alive, if his internal environment had not been polluted by the tributaries of toxins that flowed into his six-foot frame.
Standing in his hospital room, he handed me a note the doctor gave him, a small piece of white paper with the risk factors for his cancer. It was a checklist: saccharin in the products he used because he was a diabetic, asbestos in his childhood home and workplace, the cigarettes he’d quit smoking decades earlier, and the chlorinated tap water he drank for over 40 years. Looking up at him I said, “Well, you didn’t miss a beat.”
I am honored that Kathleen selected this poem which came to life at Hedgebrook. My heart broke when I wrote it and continues to break each time I read it. I feel that I was shown a world and that this really did happen. I know, by the pain in my throat that it did.
In honor of the untold stories, the lives lost and the bigotry faced –those who were gunned down on bridges like bull’s-eyes at an arcade. Thank you Kathleen.
“Court and Spark,” the landscape begins to dance, “we love our lovin’/but not like we love our freedom.” The river pushes into the canal, stones stacked along the bank to make walls. A dilapidated building, the wooden slats gaping and grayed, the sign undecipherable.
The signs read Hiawatha crossing…Shoshone something…the houses creeping and tucked into the hillside. More signs. Panhandling. Gold mine tours from the small shack on the westbound side. A brown National Park style sign reads, “Sunshine Miners Memorial” across the highway. America’s shanty town’s still lumber.
Trailer parks and pile
of earth and rubble
950 people in historic Wallace, the Shoshone County Court House, the white halls visible from the highway, 195 miles to Missoula.
After singing we enter Mountain Time crossing the line into Montana, passing Lookout Pass at EXIT 0, a moment later Lolo National Forest
My lungs leap sighing
crows feast on a scattered carcass
If you knew you were a body of water, would you protect yourself? Our language creates the illusion that we are separate from the rest of the natural world.
Along I-90 headed east Coeur d’Alaine Lake the mist rises and hovers like a spirit ethereal my stomach rumbles and explodes from lasts night’s America, Burger King onion rings and a BK Fish. The bushes and shrubs are robed sentinels, frost clothing each bare limb.
Entering Idaho Panhandle National Forest, the evergreens are thick, we remark that driving across the U.S. should be mandatory.
Climbing 4th of July
pass the pressure changes–
pale erect cones glisten
SANKOFA. Honoring my ancestors. Famine Road meets Trail of Tears after the Middle Passage. The Griots, the Bards, the Storytellers. I am clothed in my ancestors.
Gye Nyame –Except God