For the Women

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FOR THE WOMEN
 
Looking up, I see a canopy
of tropical trees, merged seamlessly
under a lazy late afternoon sun,
swaying loosely in the breeze
or hushed to a still silence,
being all of what they are.
I also see a quilt, woven tenderly
by hundreds of hard-working hands
over maybe thousands of years.
I see women in sweaty backrooms
or on rickety bamboo porches
under a relentless midday sun,
creating colour, texture and pattern
one infinitesimal layer at a time,
building inconceivable beauty
out of madness spun by oppression,
and it is beauty on the smallest scale,
but of the grandest design.
These towering achievements
will never scrape the sky,
but they will transport you
through all the skies and worlds.
I see the art slavery can create,
and wonder what would happen
under the conditions of freedom.
I see the future I hope for,
and the women are emancipated,
and the power is tremendous,
and the earth trembles again
in the most delicious anticipation,
and we rule without ruling,
in the space where sun and moon meet.
And the rich tapestries are portals
taking us back to the ancient source
so that we may thrive forward.
And we all become weavers of the free,
and we all the layers of the magisterial tree.
 
– Tammy Takahashi
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Trailer for my New Poetry Book!

I’m so excited to share with you the beautiful trailer for my new book, which is coming out on June 6! Thank you to Golden Dragonfly Press!

For all you poetry lovers, and anyone who would like to open a book so we can share a space of love, longing, hope, uncertainty, love of nature and a wish for peace … I welcome you with open arms!

Click HERE to view the video!

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We are the living.

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We are all the living
we are all the dying.
We are in this one world,
each of us a universe
bound to the next
in humility and servitude
if we choose.
We must choose.
There is no default
set to make things right
if we do not forge
a path of kindness.
There is observing, repenting,
learning, starting again,
but there no starting over.
We are the living,
we are the dying.
We witness and document,
make art and make love,
because there are a million ways
we are human,
but one way in which
we need to share,
to be understood,
to be met with the compassion
that chokes us
when the world
is strangled by so much suffering.
Let us grace the living
with every possibility for life;
it is the work of our life to live,
and make each breath
a windstorm blowing in the direction
of restoring dignity for all.
 
– tammy takahashi

Easter Spring Light

 

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The plenitude
of ways of seeing,
from the ground up,
and then,
slowly,
like a door opening
to a flood of light
that would
be contained,
like the first chords
of a song
breaking the silence
to fill and make
a world,
from the outside
and inside
at once,
and movement
stops being movement,
but presence,
and striving
stops being striving,
but grace.

Finding Heart

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Maybe I’ve been looking
at the wrong things,
and for too long,
and in places not meant
for our communion.
Maybe there’s not
so far to go, to do things
like watch every flower grow,
the seasons come and go.
Maybe this is where
we find the time we fear
is running away from us,
while we’ve been fleeing, madly,
in every direction from here.
I want to watch every creature
take their first breath this world,
see the fledgling growth,
the wide-eyed wonder,
the absorption of everything
we will choose to give it.
I want to sit outside
and watch wind become rain,
and sun become life.
I want to feel with my fingers
how trees age with grace
and how the earth
harbors seed and root,
which provide so much.
I want to witness
the life cycle of a cicada,
and contemplate eternity
flowing in the breath of their
short-lived song,
and marvel at perspective.
I want to be so still
that I can hear
every heartbeat at once,
loving and doubting,
in honour and in strife,
from beginningless
to never-ending time,
giving everything,
needing only this.