Bewhere your feet are,I’m told.Yet as the plane sweepstoward Kisumu, rifted valleybelow, universearound, descending towardhome,I find my mindresting notin Kenya, but justwhere my feet are:air,among clouds,at the shelter far away,that place of refugeto whom life has entrustedviolence,with the little boywho thrashed angry,body consumed with ragebigger than bones,as he looked to the sky, wonderedaloud‘what do cloudsContinueContinue reading “to be divided/whole”
Category Archives: tafakari
What of mournings
I wrote this poem on September 8, 2015, six days after Aylan Kurdi died during his family’s flight across the Aegean Sea, and photos of his body opened the world’s eyes, sparking ‘this suffering must stop’ statements:
What of mournings
i
Do you think he was afraid?
Or maybe…
who seek refuge
These are snippets of stories of some very small few of the humans who seek refuge in this world, whose paths I briefly walked alongside and whose lives I, alongside and within the incredible community of humans volunteering, did my best to care for while on Lesvos, and whose wellbeing is bound to myContinueContinue reading “who seek refuge”
One Week on Lesvos: Snapshots
I’ve been volunteering on the Greek Island of Lesvos for seven days now, with four remaining before I return to the United States on December 21. What follows are snapshots of my time here, as I’ve worked in various refugee camps and with Lighthouse, an organization on the island’s north coast which receives boats asContinueContinue reading “One Week on Lesvos: Snapshots”
living light
(Where in the world is Callie? There was a slight change of plans: it has now been nearly two weeks since we arrived in Rome, Italy, where Mariah and I are volunteering full-time at the Joel Nafuma Refugee Center and at Centro Baobab, two organizations that welcome, support, and care for refugees, migrants, asylum-seeker, humansContinueContinue reading “living light”
mosaic*
mosaic: a poem created by lifting words written in my notebook during the first fifty-two days of this journey and weaving them into a mosaic
day 1: go real open
day 4: warm ordinaries, calm wonder
day 5: create…
The Privilege To Call This An Adventure
The large bus is careening and weaving, whipping over the twisting, compact roads. Occasionally, another bus barrels around a corner and down a hill from the opposite direction, and both vehicles are made to slow so that they might peacefully pass the other, only some four or five inches between the two, squeezed against theContinueContinue reading “The Privilege To Call This An Adventure”
Irish Skies, Soliciting The Soul’s Response
Written while gazing out the window of a bus journeying from Northern Ireland, where we have just spent three days, to Galway and Lehinch, on the west coast of Ireland, where we will spend the next ten days. I. Sun glides, glints, gallops across cliffy coast line, shrouding ground in gold, then turns fire- some,ContinueContinue reading “Irish Skies, Soliciting The Soul’s Response”
Lake District: A Dialogue Poem
*This is a dialogue poem, to be read across the page as one poem, then down the left and right columns as their own poems. ** The words on the left are a quote by Leslie Kaminoff and Amy Matthews, which I stumbled into reading this morning on the train platform just before leaving theContinueContinue reading “Lake District: A Dialogue Poem”
Today, I embark
Today, I embark on a 100-day journey around Europe with only my feet to carry me (and whatever I can squeeze into my 10kg backpack).
One Year Has Now Passed: A Letter to Moses
Moses, on this day, I don’t know where or how you are, but I do know that after having lived the extraordinary honor of being a mama to you, I am now grateful to carry you, carry your joy and your resilience, carry the sincerity of your smile and the light of your little life, with me as I fiercely love this world, so that all whose paths may cross mine might be graced with some small sense of what it is to have loved and been loved by you.
That is Something
I have witnessed suffering. I have seen horrible things. I have watched indescribable pain. I turned around; there two babies lay next to one another on the bed, silenced by pain, save for slight mewing. Their bandages were removed and I glanced twice, three times, four before I could comprehend what was missing: their tinyContinueContinue reading “That is Something”
in the trees
I. This summer, I can be found working nine to five in a windowless cubicle, in the corner of a break room, in the basement corner of a very old and dark administration building. And in those hours, I am doing work about which I am passionate, in which I believe, and of which IContinueContinue reading “in the trees”
six months intentionally whole
It’s been almost six months to the day since I’ve given presence to this blog. It’s not that I haven’t written; I have written much in 2015 (see the ‘poetry’ pages for my most recent work). But often a blog posting seems to require a beginning and an end, polished sentences and verb agreement, andContinueContinue reading “six months intentionally whole”
family forms
I wrote a poem last trimester and in it used the phrase “a family form of mine” to describe someone. I received the reviewed poem back from my professor and the phrase was circled, with an arrow pointing to a question written in the margin: what do you mean by this? I write of familyContinueContinue reading “family forms”
172 pages
Last Monday morning, I printed, hole-punched, bound, and turned in to my advisor the 172 pages of my senior thesis. I began thinking about this project five years ago,before I even committed to attend Kalamazoo College, as a prospective student excited and intrigued by its possibilities. I began to consider its subject four years agoContinueContinue reading “172 pages”
poetry
This trimester, in addition to writing my senior thesis on the intersections of compassion and poverty in care for ill and dying children in Kenya, in addition to transitioning back into life away from Kenya, in addition to learning how to walk peacefully through life’s unexpected gusts of wind, I am taking a creative writingContinueContinue reading “poetry”
365 days full
Recently, a friend who also writes, and who has also had a year of seeing life through broadening lenses, reflected on the past twelve months of learning and discovery in pictures. As many words often do, it spurred my own thoughts, caused me to look through delightful photo memories, moved me share. A year agoContinueContinue reading “365 days full”
back/here
On being back/here: Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it feels like being hugged. Sometimes it makes sense. Sometimes it all feels fuzzy, like I’m walking around this world in a bubble only I can see and inside of which there is a Moses and there are children dying and there are momentous-seeming movements. But mostly itContinueContinue reading “back/here”
just like that, it’s time
Written 7 August 2014 Take it as it exists before you. Take the sun as it rises before you, not some other view. Take the coffee as it sits before you, not some newly fresh, attempting to be perfected pot. Take the child as it laughs before you, not some dream of where their lifeContinueContinue reading “just like that, it’s time”
callie daniels-howell 