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I am woman,
my blood a map crafted by
all the strong women that
came before, that fought before.
This copper fuel surges through
my veins, propelling me forward,
compelling me to care.
I follow this map left for me.
It is my guide.
I am my mother’s daughter
and for that I am proud.
She is the original owner
of my hazel eyes through which
I see this world and will it to change.
It is her voice in my head that cries
If he can do it why can’t I?
And it is her actions that
provide me with the answer:
I can.
I am sewn from a fabric of equality,
with words as the thread that
mends lives and stitches souls.
When woven into hearts
this thread has the power to free
the tethers tying women’s
feet to the ground so we can
climb to the clouds and capture our dreams.
My cloud is waiting.
I am indebted to all women that fought,
all women that continue to fight.
Thank you.
The torch is now mine and
I will brandish it with the strength
infused by you into my blood.
It will illuminate the path and
serve as a comfort, for the blood
in my body and the torch in my hand
remind me that I am never alone.
My work begins now.
I am continuing this fight
heavy of heart.
Despite all the ground that has been
touched with light, there is still darkness.
Only when there are no more ceilings to shatter,
because we have surpassed every boundary,
explored every frontier and collected jars full
of glittering glass, will the darkness
be eradicated for good.
So I’ll fight.
I am woman,
A tapestry of history,
a slate for the future.
One day, when I have the honor
of passing on my blood,
my map,
I hope that it will be an artifact,
rather than a tool,
that the place to which it leads
will have been found and excavated
for its precious treasure.
But if not, I hope to proudly pass
my torch to the next,
knowing that she, too, is dreaming
of following her blood.
That is woman.
I found my soul upon the floor it was hiding behind a few locked doors; of childhood games and yesterdays I stumble on it by mistake. I was looking for some memories of someone I forgot to be.
It looked withered and all washed away like something left over from yesterday. It looked smaller than I remember, shattered by lies and burnt by embers, and it was torn by the lies of love it took me a moment to realize what it was.
I tried to pick it up off the floor by the memories I had before, although it seemed small and very weak the voice seemed stronger when it started to speak. And in its eyes, it did seem to care, but it was not happy to see me there.
Go away you have forgotten! And you left me here in a past to rot in! It showed my shame and let me know I was the one to blame that it had to go.
You once had dreams that made me big; of equal rights and fights to win, and of being fair was for everyone, and how it matters that no job was left undone. And you use to laugh with such abandon, and you helped with hands of innocents and understanding. And how you would fight for what was true, you would always let me always speak to you.
And how everyone that was a friend; you would be loyal with until the end. You use to care for your fellow man and protest and take a stand.”
But I was so young; and there were others, and most fights were not for me but another, it seemed to hard and no one cared and I got tired of being everywhere, I had a life and little time. And youth, that was no friend of mine.
This was my excuse but still my soul pressed; so it was no use I should have guessed.
And your values got eroded. When you got pressured and you got goaded you forgot how to stand for what you believe, I begged you to stand but there was no reprieve.
You turned your back on what you thought was good; and I did the very best I could, and it was hard and as time marched on you heard a louder voice and you were gone. You wanted things I could not give; like green paper from the ATM!
“Well you just don’t understand this life was not what I planned, I have to live, and I have to eat.” Was my defense but I felt defeat.
And you no longer sing, instead you Twitter, you made cyber friends on a book with no real paper. You see plastic people on electronic devices, and you believed their shit they had to write, everything it seemed so fake. But you fell for it, your big mistake. My voice inside it got so small. You no longer cared and I learned to crawl.
But you were with me each and every day. You could have shouted or got me back another way. This is not my fault alone to change a world that I never owned. You could of helped me be true or you could of left and I would of followed you” I justified my misbehavior but my souls true voice it did not waver.
I could not leave because it’s you, and I am just a part, so what did you want me to do. And when you found you could not get to the top you sold pieces of me it just got worse and you would not stop.
The things that you once held dear you pushed aside you longer cared. I saw the little things you use to love get pushed them away for bigger stuff.
You did what they called an upgrade you wanted cars, jewels or better things. You ripped me apart for who you use to be; to be someone else eyes blinded by greed.
I tried to stop you and remind you of what you once believed, but those things no longer mattered and your feelings reprieved. And you had no time to hear from me and I couldn’t fight so I set you free.
You wanted things to you that mattered; and you hushed my tirade and so I went to the shadows. Hoping someday you would remember; but now I wait to die; your soul surrenders.
I felt my being fall apart as I realized what I had lost, I was something I was not and maybe that was my true cost.
I felt my soul start to slip away but before it went it turned to say “What brought you back to this forgotten place?” I looked at this being with my face.
“I forgot what I was to be.”
Then it laugh and said “Well now you see.”
It turned away and went back to the floor and crawled underneath another locked door. And this new door I had not opened yet out of only my fear it was the one marked Regret. I wanted it back; but it didn’t matter, we had our talk and my soul was shattered.
So have you mended your broken soul or has your greed taken control?
Can you pick up off the floor the person you had been before or is it too late to find it yet and is it behind the door Regret. Open the doors and set if free and maybe you can find who you use to be.
By Hannah Fenlon
Now,
I carry my mother,
who carried me.
I carry tradition,
filial piety.
I am the seaweed from the wet sand of Weihai
Picked and dried by hand
your aunt’s labor.
I am those wet strands
uniting the branches
of past, present,
and future.
I am the threads
weaving through your father’s
sick blood,
stitching together an ever growing quilt.
I stretch from his heart
to his brain
Sending strength,
where medicine had failed.
Was it hard to let go
of what connected us for those nine months;
of what connected your stories with mine;
merging your past with my future?
Now,
I only know what I’ve been told.
I’ll never know a summer night spent
folding soft dough over mounds of meat,
floured hands and wistful hearts,
a soft familiar voice
floating over the radio.
I’ll never know mornings on the subway,
then bus
riding to Stuyvesant,
breakfast sandwich pressed into your hand by your mother
her wish wrapped in tinfoil
that you return safely from school.
I’ll never know afternoons
spent by your father’s hospital bed
watching his chest rise
and fall
waiting for words,
for movement.
Your father who left before
his filial duty was done–
The white haired should never bury
their children.
Now,
we float with the wind
in opposite directions.
I am rushing forward,
while you long to go back,
while you long for more time.
Now,
I float with the wind
that connects stitches with seaweed,
that connects soy sauce and soda bread,
that connects me to you.
Hannah Fenlon is a junior at Horace Greeley High School. This poem was awarded a prize in the 2016 Chappaqua Library Young Writers Contest.
A poem written by Nancy Huehnergarth and shared with about 175 attendees celebrating with Grace on March 14 at Crabtree’s Kittle House.
New Castle is small
Just a spit of a place
But larger than life
Is one resident named Grace
She had a great vision
For a town magazine
So she launched Inside Chappaqua
And became our news queen
Soon the residents noticed
That amidst their junk mail
Was an upstart new journal
That told quite a tale
Who’d have thought that so many
From Green Lane to Whipporwill
Had such interesting stories
And they weren’t Bill or Hill
Grace canvassed New Castle
And the town’s cul-de-sacs
She broke trailblazing stories
Like the best place to wax
Her in-depth interviews
With notable residents
Reminded town citizens
We boast more than Presidents
As a loyal town booster
She embodied “Shop Local”
To support her advertisers
She became very vocal
Soon her friends were afraid
To go shop at the malls
Cause if Grace learned you went
She would roll her eyeballs
Before IC was started
If you wanted town news
You could hear it from friends
But it was colored by their views
To have a real magazine
Covering the good and the solemn
Is a blessing for Chappaqua
As is Grace’s monthly column
After 10 years in Chappaqua
Covering every good story
Grace is famous in town
And enjoys all the glory
But fame has its price
Lack of privacy’s loony
Grace would have to move to Rye
If she dated George Clooney
Speaking of celebrities
We all were agape
When Grace traveled to Africa
With the Secretary of State
But she almost didn’t make it
This chronic overachiever
When she passed out stone cold
From her shot for Yellow Fever
The journalists she traveled with
Had superior gloats
But a few days into Africa
They asked Grace for her notes!
Inside Chappaqua’s journey
Into the hyper-local scene
Is a lesson in tenacity
And how to start a magazine
Since IC was launched
And began to ascend
Local journals have proliferated
But Grace started the trend!
Grace, we all want to thank you
For thinking outside the box
You’re the best thing in New Castle
Inside Chappaqua rocks!
