Music and dance have been used throughout history for the purpose of healing the body and the spirit. Larry Jaffe’s “Dance in the River of Dreams” and “Castaways” vibrate with the healing power of both music and dance. “Ivory Addiction” throbs with an unhealthy tattoo that shows one woman's legacy of addiction to the remembering of pain -- how the drum of remembrance can become an instrument of pain played with drumsticks of bone. --Annette Marie Hyder Dance in the River of Dreams Time makes a short necktie Don’t let it be a noose Choose your partner carefully To dance the river heart away Rhythms cook like gumbo Spicy as it goes down Dance in the river of dreams Don’t catalog those nightmares They belong to the devil Not to hoochie-koochie mama Working to be brave Dance with courage The conviction of your footsteps Beating on bathroom walls Spiritual graffiti feel it Between the scrawls So dance little tango Make like butterfly wings Samba to your eccentricity Salsa your mind from the mundane There is nothing vanilla About the river Its flavor destined Milky Way Moon so close it burns the night Your smile beckons Come hither light Dance little tango Dance the river of dreams Castaways I listen to your search for ancestral music the rhythms that make your heart dance. The sound removes the scar tissue from my forehead rules of transcendence etched into the soul. This is not a guitar that your spirit plays it is the bones of your childhood singing for freedom. And I come to you on these shabby knees awaiting your charm. Ivory Addiction It is you mother who has mistaken my bones for my heart thinking that breaks can heal if you treat them and place them in a cast suspending isolating. Crippled by ivory addiction my heart still breaks my limbs are no longer protected by truth it has not set me free. Instead I remain encompassed in these ivory chains a free spirit no more. I am waiting for my body to disinherit me so I can cast my fate to indifferent winds and purge the foolhardy from the steps of anal deployment a missile crisis in mockery that you wear like a cheap suit stolen from vaudeville vestiges that clamor at your heart. Yes it is you mother that chambered my life with soliloquy and mocked my birth with death like chants as you and your friends cheered for revenge. It is time to take stock of this broth you concocted and savor the nectar of retribution. Yes it is you mother who wore disguise every Halloween so we would not know who doled out treats. You beat on my dreams with an Instamatic camera hoping to capture whatever I lost in my childhood. __________________________ 
Larry Jaffe's new book, One Child Sold (Salmon Poetry, 2010), is about human rights and trafficking, and as such addresses the sickness and depravity of human trafficking and the necessity of cleansing such wounds for societal health. This book would seem to be filled with horror and sadness in dealing with such a depressing subject.However, the poems in this book can't seem to help themselves from believing in love and hope. Scars are touched gently and given the honor they deserve but atthe same time the human spirit is shown with all its courage along with flags and drums and fifes of forgiveness for a hopeful future. The poem, Sub urban, from Larry Jaffe's new book, One Child Sold, was first published in InTheFray Magazine. You can read it here. Here is an excerpt from One Child Sold. From the section “Speaking of Human Trafficking” Caravan to Nowhere Once they were through processing the women girls no bigger than your thumb tiny girls looking for work and a way out not so smart girls and brilliant girls young women really but more like girls they were put to work. They were promised the big time the show how they could make lots of money be famous drink whiskey and drive huge automobiles. They wanted that western fame & fortune thing more than they wanted life so they were put to work sacrificing everything getting nothing. They danced with the merry-men sang them songs and did other things that were not to their heart’s delight nor any other part of them. The freedom the life they had before was no more there is a difference between a hard life and one that is cruel tainted with the taste of metal and the feel of barbwire. All because of the Promise when they climbed into that van scampered on to that boat leaped into the abyss of poisoned pledge of fatuous riches and private glory. They found themselves puppets of subjugation slaves of the 21st century landlocked captivity without escape —Bondage a caravan to nowhere. Some say they are gullible some say they are naive whatever they are they are no more ground into human snowflakes precipitating the heat that destroys them dispersed with the wind they wished the caravan had wings. Rifles Rifles are not made for 10 year old hands Nor triggers for 10 years old fingers Pistols are too damn heavy Dynamite fits neatly in backpacks Making human bombs Another childhood memory… From the section “Dreams Are Not Enough” Wearing Tragedy Her face is painted the color of heartbreak. She wears the tragedy of mothers of dead children. She dresses in the color of mothers of the lost. Milk spills from her full breasts. She is nondenominational. Emptiness the chair sits empty alone four legs gripping the floor From the section: “Speaking of Terezin” “I said before that I want to give hope because where there is life there is hope. I compose this book with fingers that touched the walls, the gates and the poor souls who suffered there. I will not let them be forgotten. I will write of their love and passion. I will work with my friends to prevent it from happening again.” The Children of Terezin When I visited Camp Terezin the children called to me they left ethereal homes dropped blankets and held out their tiny hands for me to lift them up and hold them close. I hugged every one of them as they told me of Terezin and how their fairy-tales kept them alive until story time was over. I hugged every one of them as they told me how they painted pictures with their fingers dipped in their mothers’ blood. I hugged every one of them as they sang songs and told me nursery rhymes. I hugged every one of them as they told me about the playground of graves how they played hopscotch over tombstones and ring around a rosey was truth ashes ashes all fall down only when they fell down they never got up. I hugged every one of them even the lost soul who crossed himself like a gentile when he cried. I hugged every one of them because the children of Terezin no longer wait for their mothers to call them home. Today they have been set free. From the section “Speaking of Freedom” Anthem Listen closely you can still hear the sound of the third Reich marching Listen as boots jackhammer across pavements and boardrooms Listen as crowds shout in streets as terror rises from asphalt paved with bones Listen as Hitler’s screams rise from the tombs hear the death rattle Sieg Heil (jackhammer boots march on asphalt) Sieg Heil (arms goose step) Sieg Heil (boots click heels) Sieg Heil (arms shoot up) Sieg Heil (boots click heels) —There is challenge to the darkness as serenity forms and understanding no longer takes a back seat. Grief stricken relatives should no longer hold hands they should shun excuses and build fists of understanding as one being stands up then another and another… L'Chaim (arms pump fists) L'Chaim (arms never waver) L'Chaim (we never give up) L'Chaim L'Chaim L'Chaim Editor's note: L'Chaim (lecha'im) means to life. Dummies.com explains that: L'Chaim reveals a lot about the Jewish approach to life. The phrase is not to a good life, to a healthy life, or even to a long life. It is simply to life, recognizing that life is indeed good and precious and should always be celebrated and savored. Rabbi Mendel Bluming of Potomac, Maryland says that use of the term l'chaim stems from longstanding Jewish tradition. According to Rabbi Mendel Bluming, in the Torah, wine is often associated with death and destruction. In the Bible, Noah drinks after the flood and is taken advantage of by his son Ham. "In the Megilah, Achashverosh kills his wife after a long night of drinking," he says. "We say l'chaim to clarify that we are drinking to life, not death. We say the plural chaim instead of chai because, though the two words have the same meaning, we must clarify that one should never drink alone." |
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