What a week! My husband Charles Hobson finished last decade by retiring as surgical intensivist at VA Hospital and enjoyed two full days of retirement before embarking on his new adventure- surgeon intensivist at North Florida Regional Medical Center. It was not easy to say good buy to so many colleagues, friends and patients he has touched with his compassionate care, big smile and selfless dedication to medical teaching. We celebrated with Publix cake, selfie and walk down the memory lane! He has left decade of work as “Doctor Doctor” (MD, MHA toped with PhD in Health Services Research in 2019) and many publications.
But that was just a prelude to the live poetry night on January 4th to celebrate Winter Solstice, new decade and Charles Hobson‘s birthday- a brilliant idea fueled by communal love for written word shared with a group of friends and colleagues. My resolution was strenghten after reading Dana Gioia‘s essay “Can Poetry Matter?” shared by Mónica Villalón. The article eloqauntly argues how poetry has quietly became a subculture that nobody but insiders care about: “Most editors run poems and poetry reviews the way a prosperous Montana rancher might keep a few buffalo around—not to eat the endangered creatures but to display them for tradition’s sake.” The closing paragraph sealed my inspiration: “Society has already told us that poetry is dead. Let’s build a funeral pyre out of the dessicated conventions piled around us and watch the ancient, spangle-feathered, unkillable phoenix rise from the ashes.” And so we have built a beautiful bonfire under the starry Florida sky and asked a circle of friends of all convictions and feathers to recite poems they chose to enter new decade and celebrate our birthday with. Let’s free the poetry from an intellectual ghetto into the warm Floridian night and virtual universe!
“This is the bright home
in which I live,
this is where
I ask
my friends
to come,
this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long
to learn to love.“
THE HOUSE OF BELONGING by David Whyte
“Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!”
“Let America be America” by Langston Hughes (1902-1967)
I wish words of Langston Hughes remind us of hope and true greatness of our country. Malini
“To have a New Year
Which deserves that name
You, my friend, have to deserve it,
You have to make it new, I know that it’s not easy,
But try, experiment, be conscious.
It’s inside of you that the New Year
Has always been dormant and waiting. “
RECEITA DE ANO NOVO by Carlos Drummond de Andrade (1902-1987)
The sound of the words of this poem written by one of the most important Brazilian poet resonates with the beauty of Portuguese language. Christine
“A place on the earth, untenured,
Soil, grass, brick, air; To know I will never have to move; To review the seasons from one lair.
When night comes, to lie down in peace;
To know that I may die as I have slept;
That things will not revert to a stranger’s hand;
That those I love may keep what I have kept.”
HOMELESS by Vikram Seth
“The message of this poem is timeless.” Aida
We were perplexed yet again by “I am the Walrus”, brought to us by Adrian. 
“My Best to You” from Lucho.
by John Engels
A river is supposed to be nearby, and reachable
and since in a strange place the first thing
is to look for running water, I ask, and discover
that no one knows exactly
where the river is, though
there’s plenty of speculation…
God has mercy on the kindergarten children
On the school kids, less than that
And on the grownups he has no mercy at all
He leaves them alone
Yehuda Amichai presented by Aner
“First divesting ourselves of worldly goods, as St. Francis teaches,
in order that our souls not be distracted,
by gain and loss, and in order also
that our bodies be free to move.
easily at the mountain passes, we had then to discuss
whither or where we might travel, with the second question being
should we have a purpose…”
“First divesting ourselves of worldly goods, as St. Francis teaches,
in order that our souls not be distracted,
by gain and loss, and in order also
that our bodies be free to move.
easily at the mountain passes, we had then to discuss
whither or where we might travel, with the second question being
should we have a purpose…”
The Journey of the Magi
“We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.”
my father always said, “early to bed and
early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy
and wise.”
it was lights out at 8 p.m. in our house
and we were up at dawn to the smell of
coffee, frying bacon and scrambled
eggs.
my father followed this general routine
for a lifetime and died young, broke,
and, I think, not too
wise.
taking note, I rejected his advice and it
became, for me, late to bed and late
to rise.
now, I’m not saying that I’ve conquered
the world but I’ve avoided
numberless early traffic jams, bypassed some
common pitfalls
and have met some strange, wonderful
people
one of whom
was
myself—someone my father
never
knew.
“What loss is this
that song must evolve
into silence?
The survivors understand
the romance of quiet.”
“When human beings found out about death
They sent the dog to Chukwu with a message:
They wanted to be let back to the house of life.
They didn’t want to end up lost forever
Like burnt wood disappearing into smoke
Or ashes that get blown away to nothing.”
Kidney Love 