Give yourself the gift of this jewel of Rumi

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QYDrd1a0M0

“Think of something you said. Now think of what you wish you had said.”

I wish I had said no. I wish I hadn’t answered the email. I wish I had said I’m too busy, too stupid, too illiterate, I have no language, I have no thoughts, I am empty headed.

I wish I had said yes. I wish I had taken her home and given her hot chicken soup made by my own hands. I wish I had insisted. I wish I had told her not to leave. Give me a chance, I could have cried.

Why is it so hard to see the future, the damage that is to come? Why is it so hard to see the solution is to give more, not back away? How many times have I let others make mistakes before I realize I could save a lot of heart-aches? Most of all, my own.

poppies in Israel

In Response to the Flood in Northern Minnesota

I am blest to step under a shower, the gush of hot water / to have indoor plumping / sleep in a warm bed. I am blest to be able to buy groceries / buy even flowers / buy even candles / paper towels / to have light / a tv / to play DVDs / have a pile of books teetering on the edge of a table.

I am blest to have a pc / a politically correct bus ride / green energy and brown skin and my hood I wasn’t born in and can leave anytime. I am blest to be handed a transfer I didn’t pay for / given an apology / a smile / a seat / to be asked if I am coming over soon / to be wanted / to be called.

I am blest hundreds of times a day when my mind clicks on and hundreds of times when my body stands up and when it walks and does those exercises to get back in shape and the green growing in the yard and a view out the window and suddenly a robin.

I am blest to be home alone and blest to be in a crowd of children and blest to be watching the world walking by with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine in my hand and a slice of pizza or a salad with cranberries and walnuts and fresh baked bread.

I am blest to be doing the dance of peace and hey baby it’s me in the mirror liking the silver that frames my face and never mind the winter of my discontent or the summer of my first heart-break. I do not have water gushing over my floors and mass destruction and housedamaged. I already declared bankruptcy and walked the sliver of despair, I already fell in the desert of defeat and arose with my mouth full of dust.

I spread the ashes of my lover and thought of how two can make a soul or break a promise and I tasted the ashes when my husband confided his HIV status was acute again and I sank up to my neck in ash when I watched my son’s mortal remains swirl away in the river. So blest blest blest am I to work in silence and not go screaming through the streets and what I can do to light a match to the small lantern one more time and what can I do but follow its luminescence that leads me on?

Join us for an evening of extraordinary performance art!

An evening of multi-cultural, dynamic, cutting edge performaces

by 6 talented women:

Dance and story-telling Xpression-Inspiration by Maia Maiden

Performance poet Wendy Brown-Baez in La Noche del Amor

Dance Textured memories by Renee Copeland

Spoken Word by Deja Stowers in Black Girl, one world

Stand up comic Farheen Hakeem

Dance by Aneka Mcmullen

Patrick's Cabaret

3010 Minnehaha Ave S Mpls

Friday April 3, Saturday April 4

http://www.patrickscabaret.org/

New Mexico poetry reading

with Nadia Giordana, editor of Mississippi Review,

which has one of my poems in issue 8 at my publication party

publication performance party

Ceremonies of the Spirit
love poems sensual and celestial
from Plain View Press

Publication Performance Party
Friday February 27th at 7:00

followed by wine reception & book signing
at Homewood Studios

2400 Plymouth Ave, Minneapolis, 55411

http://www.homewoodstudios.com/galleries.html

or

to order signed copies http://www.wendybrownbaez.com/
to order by credit card: Plain View Press
sbpvp@sbcglobal.net

$15 plus $3 S&H

"… That’s what Wendy does, she connects us with words and wraps us in the safety of a shawl so we can fall in love with poetry once again."
- Gary Glazner, Founder of the Alzheimer’s Poetry Project