It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. Yesterday afternoon the Santa Cruz Peace Chorale gave our Spring concert. It was exciting and beautiful and I’m going to copy here the poem I read to accompany the final song, Huddled Masses by Shaina Taub and our theme of immigration and the Statue of Liberty. But first, the poem by Emma Lazarus which is on the Statue of Liberty:
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
We asked the audience to comment on what the Statue means to them.
This is the poem I read:
Anne Frank Remembered
For so long, so many
have wished, prayed,
demonstrated, marched and sat in
asking only for peace.
Peace on Earth.
Has there ever been a time
without fighting somewhere,
invasions, covert operations?
Korea, Vietnam, Chile,
Guatemala, Nicaragua,
Afghanistan, Iraq,
and on and on.
Now Ukraine and Gaza.
The government of the country
of my father’s people,
the survivors of genocide,
themselves now drop the bombs
on refugee camps and hospitals.
And yet, along with one young girl
who did not survive that genocide,
I still do, in spite of everything, believe
most people are good at heart.
In this day, fewer birds sing,
chirping and rasping insect noises
no longer fill our summer nights.
The climate changes.
People in growing numbers
migrate north, seeking
a place where they can still
earn a living, food, a home
without violence.
Other, good-hearted souls,
welcome the needy arrivals,
help as they can,
while their governments build
tall walls, razor wire, detention, deportation.
Is peace possible?
I am tempted to despair,
to stop believing, hoping.
But perhaps if we keep
sending the good in our hearts
out into the world,
if enough of us say, “enough”,
peace may still be possible.
Before her death at sixteen,
that girl also wrote,
“How wonderful it is
that nobody need wait a single moment
before starting to improve the world.”
Sylvia Patience
Sylvia Patience, Author 
Hi Sylvia
It has been too long. Thank you for sharing the whole poem by Emma Lazarus and your poem was especially meaningful to me, having grown up hearing of the horrible camps and murders and of Anne Frank, often in our home. You really captured the gift she had for seeing the gold in people and her spirit of activism to do something once she saw the need. She would have loved learning from Thich Nhat Hanh.
I am having a one year memorial for George this coming Sunday. It is an all day event but most people are only coming for the afternoon gathering for a feast and giveaway starting about 2. You are welcome to come if you can. I would love to see you. In the early morning Sundancer brothers will be here to rebuild his sweat lodge and we are going to lay his ashes down in the building of the sweat lodge and probably also after the sweat ceremony. I’ll attach his memorial card I put together for him. It has been a sad year without him. Planning the memorial has been very healing for me. It feels good to be doing something for him. The first page is the front and back of the card, and the second page is a letter he wrote years ago before the illnesses. He always said, let him or her speak for themself, so I thought it was appropriate to let him do that. In any case, let’s get together sooner than later. love you, Jeannie
We missed it again. Sorry.