Saturday, March 15, 2025

PRATIK's HLF/NYWW ISSUE HIGHLIGHT : JAMI PROCTOR XU's long poem, "Kali ~ Kathamndu"


JAMI PROCTOR XU

Kali ~ Kathamndu

        



 

                                           1

 

your name appears for weeks     in the signature line

of all her letters    name auto-corrected    to become you     

2 3 4   Kali, coming again, why are you coming again

   timedestroyerhealerprotectormother

      fire on the tongue     divine divine

 

               Om Klim Kalika Yei Namaha

 

      the fire within rises as the plane lifts

from the Chengdu greens of the trees and the Jin River

 into the turbulent fog until the sky opens  

   blue into the Himalayas    喜马拉雅 Ximalaya

   veined in browns   the twisting rivers   one begins

a translucent turquoise    before taking on yellow-brown

    silttheyellow that becomes its namesake   below this flight path

    just south of highlands, deserts, and riverbanks where she has been

    on the ground and in this same sky     the lotus hand healing

    Denis telling her these mountain formations make you feel

    as if you are seeing the divine mind itself   all its jagged formations

sandstone singing  a poet's square the sacred lake not far north of here

if you stick your tongue out far enough into into the sky you'll taste its salt

and feel, again, yak hair between your fingers, soft, as you pet the white yak

whose owner tells you it feeds the whole family with the money made

from photographs at the lakeside  a single yak hair in the mind draws a line

as you cross the unseen border   sandstone trees roads rivers   thousands

upon millions of years enter each breath grown purer as you reenter

clouds and a sudden expanse of snow on Sagarmatha    if you reach your hand

out far enough you'll touch its snow with your fingertips, just as the stars have   

to feel the texture of the lives and deaths of those who've ascended and gazed out

you rest your forehead against the cold window      all lives enter as

the third eye breathes in    the descent back into browns greens streets and paths

 

                                                          2

 

on the bus from the plane to the terminal on the tarmac in Kathmandu

a Nepali woman looks exactly like Anne but with darker skin

          beautiful how that happens   black hair flowing wild in the wind

                                divine feminine energy

              She devours Time. Naked Time. Naked Kali.

              She is an open system. She eats energy and manifests energy.

              No concept need apply. She is the flickering tongue of Agni.

              fire. She is the mother of language and mantra... *

Kali calling again appearing and reappearing in language as language

as my name as my friend whose face is on another woman she is this woman

she is every woman protector destroyer healer time hibiscus in the mind

                            

                                                          3

 

remember the thirty-three year old woman wearing a gray t-shirt that read:

              stay wild, prove you exist

remember her burning holes in desk drawers to make space for sunflowers

               to bloom inside to be seen

remember her carrying her teacher's burned body to the riverbanks, scooping mud

              to soothe the burns and scars

remember her sitting still while eight artists sketched her face, saying:

              let yourself be held here

 

in Kathmandu, she walks barefoot in the rain among fallen flowers

 

                                                          4

 

Jacaranda   the wind whistles   a purple flower

to become her name    Lucie says she loves

the name in Chinese as well   蓝花楹  Lanhuaying

       a pillar     full flowering, shedding

 

      as she stands at her aunt's bedside

 

the doctor asks  Do you know who this is 

and her aunt says Bertie   the nickname of her own aunt

not the name of her niece standing at her bedside

elevated calcium induced delirium makes her aunt forget even her own name

as the nurses bathe her aunt   she chants the Gayatri mantra  so the sound

can hold her in her fears and the excruciating pain in her hip broken and replaced

she feels her grandmother holding her aunt's hand as she holds her hand

and her aunt asks   Am I going to die?

No   she says   they say you are going to be okay

just as the doctor repeats again three days before she dies

He says  Your aunt will likely live another ten years

She's quite a person   he says

Yes  she says   She taught first and second grade for over thirty years

 

in one tree a whole spring of flowers

in one flower the name of a whole tree

in three days she becomes her aunt's mother,

aunt, niece, daughter, sister

in her aunt's face every stage of her life

this scattering of purple all along

the wet gray pavement in this sister city of Chengdu

 

                                                          5

 

moon showing us the path   the students write

in their group poem in a classroom at the international school in Kathmandu

blue butterfly just outside the window   flies into the poem

 

Do you like to sing, Madam  the students ask after the poetry workshop ends

and they offer to sing her a Nepali folk song

      a chorus of girls' voices fills the room

      a silk thread flying in the sky

      the principal enters the room and starts dancing

      his arms the wings of a bird

    

in this city once sometimes called Kantipur

       City of Light

 

moonlight showing us the path    sunlight showing us the path

                             students showing us the path

 

                                                          6

 

On the banks of the Bagmati River   she stands   watching monkeys

dive into the water   climb stone steps   swing from wires

            inhaling smoke from the cremation pyres

            exhaling prayers for the dead and the living

 

Come, Mam, I want to bless you   a woman says

I don't have any money, she says to the woman, I'm sorry

Come, Mam, the woman says again  I want to bless you

I just came from teaching poetry at a school, she says,

and I don't have any money on me   otherwise I would

I don't want money, the woman says  I just want to bless you

Come   Come    the woman motions again    so she walks over

 

the woman blesses her

              with holy water     a red tilaka   red and yellow kalava thread

the woman chants   and she lets herself open  and relax all the way

     to be held in the woman's voice

healerprotector    love of the divine mother   in the woman's voice

 

Thank you, she says to the woman once the blessing is complete

      a wave of peace passes through her body

I'm sorry I don't have any money, she says again

and the woman repeats, I don't want your money

I just wanted to bless you

    I'll write you a poem, she tells the woman

     in the smoky sunlight on the banks of the Bagmati River

 

                                           7

 

on the stone steps she watches from across the river

as family members wash the faces and feet of their loved ones

in preparation for cremation    so many loved ones  living and dead

each individual fire   all the fires   this shared ash

 

she thinks of her step-daughter, her aunts, her father-in-law,

her grandmothers and grandfathers when they were

washed in preparation for cremation or burial

   prayers in four languages, two continents and the present

as the living hold the dead    the dead hold the living

                

                              on and on

 

she remembers carrying her teacher's burned body

to the riverside to soothe the burns with cool mud

trying to help her heal in a dream   her beloved teacher

already having died in a fire lit with her own hands

 

              timedestroyerhealerprotectormother

             

                                           8

 

Shreejana says Kali's love is powerful

She tells her bahini   You are Kali

 

                     your name appears again

 

and all the false words of others fall away       

        all the misunderstandings fall away                 

        all the aggressions and anger fall away    

                      

                             love appears

 

Look, there's another sun right below the sun, D says

                             in this sky, it is so

 

               Om Klim Kalika Yei Namaha

 

*These lines are from Anne Waldman's "Alphabet of Mother Language," from

                  The Iivos Trilogy: Colors in the Mechanism of Concealment.

 

 

Jami Proctor Xu is an award-winning bilingual poet and translator who writes in Chinese and English. She has co-organized international poetry events in China, South Africa, Eswatini, Lesotho, and Ethiopia and frequently reads at poetry festivals worldwide.

 

Also Available on Amazon, Flipkart & Daraz

Amazon USA: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DWSPT5WP

Amazon India: https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0DWSPT5WP

Distributed in the United States by Itasca Book Distribution: https://itascabooks.com/ Distributed in South Asia by Nirala Publications, India: https://niralapublications.com/product-category/pratik-series/  In Nepal by White Lotus Book Shop, Kathmandu: https://whitelotusbookshop.com/product-category/pratik-series/

 

 

1 comment: