Showing posts with label susan seddon boulet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label susan seddon boulet. Show all posts

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Mother's Day Proclamation



Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts,
Whether our baptism be of water or of tears!

Say firmly:
"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of the devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own.
It says: "Disarm! Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace,
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God.

In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And at the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.


~Julia Ward Howe, 18700~


Dememter and Persephone by Susan Seddon Boulet
Image from Photobucket

Thursday, April 29, 2010

For Dakota and his mom




THE FRUIT FELL RIPELY DOWN

Fox-child
of the old pretend
I know
where you go
when the moonlight
bends
in the trees
and the trees come alive
in the night.
I followed you
again
and saw
old branches
lift and gesture
in a winter-dance
in that forgotten
orchard.

Fox-child,
your sly smile
lit the dark
where no life grieves
and the music
clapped
its broken-fingered
leaves
and you, an acrobat,
gamboled
in such a hungry
pleasure
that old lucent ghosts
of fruit
fell ripely down
to taste
your laughter.

~Joyce Odam, Sacramento

Image from Photobucket
Poem from Medusa's place