Oh, I could let the world go by
Its loud new wonders and its wars
But how could I give up the sky
When winter dusk is set with stars?
And I could let the cities go
Their changing customs and their creeds
But, oh, the summer rains that blow
In silver on the jewel-weeds!
This is a poem by Sara Teasdale turned into a song by me.
I’ve been thinking today about how much nature features in Sara Teasdale’s poetry. Visiting it has been essential for so many, a comfort, a source of solace especially needed in lockdown. Seems like Albuquerque dwellers live for time spent outdoors. Sara Teasdale, a white lady who wrote all these poems in the 1920s and 30s, did not acknowledge the unspoken truth that white Americans routinely ignore–that we are living on stolen land.
I’ve also been thinking about white Europeans. How is their experience different from my own – that of a descendant of white settler colonists – to know that you are living on land that belongs to your ancestors? Could this be a part of why so many white people have a deep feeling of being unmoored, out of place?
I am a white person living on unceded Tiwa land in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
I donated 10% of my Patreon earnings in June and July to Seeding Sovereignty. If you have the means please do the same. I am so grateful to be in a good place financially, plenty of food, stable shelter, lots of support economically and emotionally from family. Wondering what it would be like if all BIPOC felt similarly supported, held, cared for by the larger culture.