Soup
We wave flags at soldiers
marching with weaponry,
study history made of
battle, conquest, and hegemony,
(ignoring the bloody limbs,
the bodies drowned in mud,
the rivers running red,
the rats feeding on dead,)
dream heroes on horses,
on chariots, on caissons,
on armored vehicles,
on movie screens.
marching with weaponry,
study history made of
battle, conquest, and hegemony,
(ignoring the bloody limbs,
the bodies drowned in mud,
the rivers running red,
the rats feeding on dead,)
dream heroes on horses,
on chariots, on caissons,
on armored vehicles,
on movie screens.
But as I stir this pot
of my esposa’s albondigas,
a distant recipe
from distant abuelas
and my madre’s cocina,
I touch the deeper history
that put meat on those
heroic bones,
rich blood in those
brave veins,
bread and tortilla
in those aching guts,
and brains in those
helmeted craniums
Soup, maiz, beans
and the female hands
that dug and devised,
that grafted and grew,
that bore and believed,
that nurtured and nudged,
that held tight to all hands
around the table and the fire.
Female hands with memory,
story, voice, egg, strength,
and gathering –
that are the poetry,
the song,
the dug in deep,
the history.
Bionote
Roy Conboy is a Latino/Irish/Indigenous writer and teacher who’s poetic plays have been seen in the struggling black boxes on the edges of the mainstream theatre in Los Angeles, Santa Ana, San Francisco, San Antonio, Denver, and more. His poetry has been seen in Green Hills Literary Lantern, Orphic Lute, Third Estate’s Quaranzine, Freshwater Literary Journal, and featured on Latinx Lit Magazine’s podcast. He recently retired from 35 years of teaching, including three decades as the head of the San Francisco State University playwrighting program where he created multiple programs that gave thousands of students of diverse ethnicities, genders, and backgrounds a place to find and raise their voices.
of my esposa’s albondigas,
a distant recipe
from distant abuelas
and my madre’s cocina,
I touch the deeper history
that put meat on those
heroic bones,
rich blood in those
brave veins,
bread and tortilla
in those aching guts,
and brains in those
helmeted craniums
Soup, maiz, beans
and the female hands
that dug and devised,
that grafted and grew,
that bore and believed,
that nurtured and nudged,
that held tight to all hands
around the table and the fire.
Female hands with memory,
story, voice, egg, strength,
and gathering –
that are the poetry,
the song,
the dug in deep,
the history.
Bionote
Roy Conboy is a Latino/Irish/Indigenous writer and teacher who’s poetic plays have been seen in the struggling black boxes on the edges of the mainstream theatre in Los Angeles, Santa Ana, San Francisco, San Antonio, Denver, and more. His poetry has been seen in Green Hills Literary Lantern, Orphic Lute, Third Estate’s Quaranzine, Freshwater Literary Journal, and featured on Latinx Lit Magazine’s podcast. He recently retired from 35 years of teaching, including three decades as the head of the San Francisco State University playwrighting program where he created multiple programs that gave thousands of students of diverse ethnicities, genders, and backgrounds a place to find and raise their voices.
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