Sing stories of previous glory.
Carry us past the limit of fast forward corridors
into hallways where gestures remind us to be skeptical
and laughter drives the drama that will follow
the deliveries at hand.
Tomorrow, words will fall
from mouths that don’t know how to shut
beneath ears filled with spikes
pounded in by their own bright ideas.
Listen in silence.
Find that place where thought swings low,
where inherent possibilities germinate
into fluttering sources of transformation
expressed with the eloquence of forethought.
Honor the students we serve.
Brenda Warren 2012
process notes if you’re interested…
At the Montana speech coaches’ spring meeting, I wrote what follows in a stream of consciousness connecting The Sunday Whirl wordle words in my motel room after the awards evening of the event where I consumed some darn good food and wine:
singing and citing our sources stories of previous glory carry us past the limit of fast forward corridors into hallways where gestures remind us to be skeptical and laughter drives the drama we envision as we follow the deliveries at hand from mouths that don’t know how to shut because ears don’t hear previous decisions
That stream helped me piece this poem together. This morning’s meeting had a heavy influence on the finished product. The meeting was contentious and long. We convened at 8:00 a.m. Committee reports were read, arguments for, arguments against, division. Vote. Repeat. Frost with contention. The meeting ended at 1:00 with one 10-minute break to check out of the motel before noon. It seemed to me that egos in the room detracted from the best interest of our students.
When I got home tonight, I broke up the stream and added the rest of it. I kept the perspective of the previous evening with “Tomorrow, words will fall…” The stream shows that I already knew it would be contentious. There were rumblings on Friday, too. It almost reads like two or maybe three pieces. I don’t think this one is finished yet. But it is what it is today.