Tuesday was the eleventh anniversary of the Haiti earthquake. I teach middle schoolers, so this year's students have no memory of what happened. But I remember.
I'm in a group right now working through the book The Artist's Way. The first chapter is about feeling safe to create. It's so interesting to me that the time when I felt safest to create was also the time when I felt in the most physical danger. It was after the earthquake that I began regularly to share my personal writing, and especially my poems, online. It felt like something I could do to bring Haiti to people's minds when there was so little I could do on the ground. All the fears I'd had before seemed to evaporate.
Today I'm going to share some of my earthquake poems, as I've done for the past few anniversaries. All the way at the end, you'll find the new poem I wrote this year.
In April 2010, I posted Earthquake Vocabulary.
In May I posted Morning, about missing my husband while I was in the US and he was still in Haiti doing relief work.
In November I was back in Haiti, still struggling with the emotional aftermath, and I wrote Wave. Later that month I wrote Ordinary, about how much I appreciated the normal day to day aspects of my life after being away from home for so long.
In January 2013, for the third anniversary, I shared This Quilt.
In December 2013, I posted Sounds from this House. This is an example of a poem that I didn't expect to be about the quake at all when I started writing it.
In January 2014, I shared my poem about being evacuated from Haiti after the earthquake, called How to Pack an Evacuation Bag.
In March 2015 I posted Tears. This one wasn't explicitly about the earthquake, but that's certainly one of the things I do still cry about, even now.
In 2017, I wrote Memento Mori and How Long Healing Takes in Port-au-Prince.
In 2019, I wrote The Last Normal Day.
Last year, in 2020, I posted Tenth Anniversary, about a man I read about in a Miami Herald article.
This year's poem is called "Eleventh Anniversary." Here it is:
Eleventh Anniversary
That night we slept on the ground on the soccer field
It was cold and we were afraid
The ground kept shaking - more than 30 times that night
We heard screaming and crying
We held our children and told them stories
A woman died that night on the soccer field
Her injuries too severe to recover from
That night
Tonight I will sleep in my bed
I will be warm and fear will be easier to dismiss
The ground will not shake (we hope and pray)
Our children will be in their own beds; in their adult minds will be their own stories
I will think of the woman who died on the soccer field that night
And the voices crying, wailing
Again and again
In Kreyol,
“The Lord gave, the Lord took away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Tonight I will remember
Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
Margaret Simon has today's roundup.
13 comments:
This work is shaping into a memoir in poems. The feelings are still so raw and real. I do love, however, that the tragedy led you to writing.
Ruth, I am so glad you chose to be brave enough to share your poems and your experiences in Haiti. Each poem refracts your experience of Haiti's earthquake and shares wisdom.
O Mercy dear Ruth, your earthquake anniversary poem lines break my heart, thank you for that in the most sincere way. I'm going to return to this page, for time with the links.
And the Kreyol speakers are so fortunate to have you & your hubby & children there as I know you feel fortunate to be traveling paths with them.
Hugs.
Jan/Bookseedstudio
Ruth, your earthquake are such strong visuals that hold both fear and gratefulness for life. I can't imagine what you felt. I only felt a small earthquake when in California About 38 years ago. It was a strong feeling of insecurity mixed with fear but it was low on the Richter scale. You have experienced much in Haiti and yet there is still hope. Be safe.
I read through them all again, Ruth, remembering some, like "The Last Normal Day". I am intrigued by your words about The Artist's Way & how you felt less afraid & more ready to create within the feeling of physical danger. Sometimes I believe that in the huge bubbles of emotion, writing helps deflate it rather than telling others which in the moment, is simply too hard! This last one, like the others, brings me to say I am so sorry that the earthquake happened to Haiti, to you, but sharing about it makes me wish many others might read those words & understand a little of the hurt & the parts that stay. Thank you for all your sharing.
The Artist's Way is such a great resource. Opens so many doors and windows. Earthquake poems - how profound, and that you write on the anniversary each year to remember. This is an important testimony to the connections between healing, and writing, our need for one another, and faith. Those last lines of your "Eleventh Anniversary" move me deeply, Ruth.
Ruth, these poems are stunning. In Wave, you long for "Where I will be myself again Instead of nothing but a desire to survive."
No one could write that unless they lived through such a life threatening event. I also loved all the fabric from Indiana in your poem about the quilt and how it shows up all over the world. Thanks for sharing these.
This is such a beautiful collection of poems, Ruth... It NEEDS to be a chapbook. Because reading them like this is really powerful. And it's not just about the earthquake... it's about all kinds of "earthquakes" we humans experience.... filled with fear and tragedy and hope and healing. Please tell me you'll start entering some chapbook contests!!! xo
Thank you for sharing these poems and your memories on this anniversary, Ruth. I often do opposite poems with students. Your new poem is a great model. Separating then and now into two stanzas helps the reader to see how much has changed, but how the events of the past reverberate into today.
I agree with all who encourage you to bring this collection to a wider audience. You identified the need yourself -- you are teaching a generation who can learn from your memories. And as Irene pointed out, while your poems are specific, they are also general and metaphoric. "Earthquake Vocabulary" makes me think of the language shift we've had with the pandemic (infectious comes to mind). What a journey. What a collection.
I agree with Margaret, Ruth. These heartfelt poems are markers in time, and a collection of them would share your remarkable experiences and emotions with the world. Your poem about what to pack gets to the heart of so much -- what is truly important in life. Thank you so much for sharing this collection. Be well and safe.
What an event to remember–you bring us right there with your new poem and many others you've written. Your closing line, "Tonight I will remember" powerfully reminds us this event is and will be forever a part of you. I'm also very taken by your poem "How to Pack an Evacuation Bag," I love all the senses you wove into the last stanza before closing and reminding us once again, "You can just take one small bag." Thanks.
I echo those who are encouraging you to seek a larger audience for these, Ruth. The Sounds from This House drew me in. Your Eleventh Anniversary is so powerful. In pandemic times, in immigration crisis times, in times of personal loss--your poems offer so much love and acceptance and understanding...
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