garzopoemnotefrommiddleofthenight

8/3/2019 GarzoPOEMNotefromMiddleoftheNight

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A note from the middle of the nightby Marcelo Garzo

A note from the middle of the night,Or, What would Gloria Anzalda do?(Or, What is Grace Lee Boggs doing?)

Compaer@sI cant go to sleep

Without writing some things,

Thinking some thingsThrough.

I reflect on tonightAlong with those who Occupy Oakland,Atlanta, Detroit, Wall Street, Chile, Madrid, Greece, South Africa, PuertoRico

With those who seek to decolonize.

I mean to shareMy feelings and prayersMy pensamientosMis conocimientos

I pray for healing.Healing here understood in a very particular way:

eMAIL received from Detroit City of Hope (DCOH) listserve 28 oct 2011

Hey all,

I wanted to share a note that my friend Marcelo Garzo, a scholar and activist living in

Oakland, wrote in response to the assault on (un)Occupy Oakland by the police. A lot totake from this...

Best,Isaac MillerDetroit Future Schools Artist in Residence


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As process,Without beginning or end,Only travelling,

Working to make the spirals of nepantla our home.

(Because these wounds are many,Therefore our healing must also be plentiful.)

Healing:As project,With no distinction between the personal and the politicalNo separation of the inner from the outer reality

That is,

As spiritual activismInner Work/Public ActsDecolonizing the (brown and female) bodyas we decolonize the (brown and female) Earth.

Anzalda reminds usThat this healing is possible.But only after,

We look directly into the eyes of the serpent,Step into the belly of the shadow beast,

Inhabit the wound itself.

She writes,While we do not choose to be torn apart,(To undergo these arrebatos),It is our own political agency,

That decides,Whether or not,We begin putting ourselves together again,Mending our mind/body/spirits

Back to health.

In healing this wound,We allow it to become a scabPerhaps a scar,But nevertheless,

A place where our skin is tougher than it was before,


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But is still sensitive enoughTo feel.

Tonight,This may be something like,Inhaling teargas,But exhaling songs.

Transforming fear and oppressionInto LOVE.

Yes,This is a storyOf revolutionary love.

For I am no longer afraid to admit,That what I want is to love.

And what I see and feel,In the reckless, swinging batons,

And thick chemical clouds of toxic, sour smoke,Is only fear.

That is,The unfulfilled desire to love.

I see an opening of the wound,Of Oscar Grant,Of Gary King Jr.,Of Ohlone Land,Of Mother Earth herself.

And in these wounds,I see tremendous opportunities,

To heal.

For the energy of 10 police precincts,Is now ours to take,

And transform.

That is,If energy cannot be created nor destroyed,


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But can only change its shape,How are we,

As shape shifters in our own bodies,Working to change the shape of this energa,And in turn,Changing the shape of this movement?Of this world?

Our elders knew,How to sing,

And pray,Together,Particularly,

As they were being attacked.

They prepared,Spiritually, mentally, physically,For radical acts of political creativity.

I do not romanticize them,For they have urged us not to.Instead, I use their stories to ask us NOW:

What are our songs?Our prayers?Our radical acts of political creativity?

Tonight,As my compaer@s rest,Heal their lungs, their throats, their bodiesBruised and battered from the day,May we find ways to expedite their/our healing,In community,For the sake of returning to the streets to heal them once again.

To remember what we learned in Tahrir Square,

That weare cleansing Egypt/Oakland.

Let us hold the space.Let us hold our selves

And each otherTogether.


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garzopoemnotefrommiddleofthenight

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