Dressed For Dinner or The White Dog That Had To Be Black

One warm evening,

In late Indian Summer,


Little Brothers, and

I were eating supper

By the big window,

Near the kitchen.

This window

Overlooked a

Dirt  crossroads.

A street light

Made a

Small pool

Of light


The surrounding

Darkness of the

Moonless  central

Florida night.

Mother decided

That she would

Find amusement

In  testing

A new theory.

Her hypothesis

For the Proposed


Mother could force

Me to acknowledge

Whatever she decided

Was, was.

Me, her oldest child,

The only daughter,

Her stubborn girl,

Who insisted on fair,

Her child

Implacable in truth,

Would be forced

To say,

White was Black.

She wanted

Me to understand

That from a

Certain perspective

Some things are

More important

Than truth.

I, stupid girl,

Learned nothing.

What is, IS.

Life is truth.

Saying a lie aloud

Is not truth.

The shame

Of survival

Bears it’s

Own witness.

I slyly allowed

Her to pretend


For the evening.

In magnanimous

Triumph, she

Did not punish

My Little Brothers

For being.

Mother even allowed

Them to eat

Their supper

Without having

To confirm

That the

White dog was

Bear . . . original 06.20.2013
. . . revised 06.11.2014
ⓒ Bearspawprint 2014


Aga-Elisi tsugasawodv


Dear Grandmother of All Grandmothers
Please redirect the poisoned life arrows into
Our own willing Mother’s hearts.
Make of our suffering a child shield.
Would that we could take the anguish
Of our children into ourselves.
Yet, perhaps it is done.
Mother’s lament of expiation amplified.
These salty tears the briny deltas
Of our love and flooded dreams,
These wails, our sorrowing mother cries
harmonic dissonance in our cyclonic howl.
Cry out the All Mother dirge.
The voiced all pain together
Mother anguish yowl song
The perfect pitch of loss.
Bear … 08.26.2013
Aga-Elisi tsugasawodv
Old-Grandmother crying
ⓒBearspawprint 2013

Recommended Resources – The Stringer – Independent News, Investigative Journalism

am so glad that someone is paying attention at last. I’ve worked with visual impairments and audial. Of the two I observed that hearing impaired is more isolating than being blind. Besides which, middle ear infections are terribly painful. And any chronic infection is debilitating to the entire body, as well as the spirit. Kudos to Dr. Kong.

My Favorite Photographs N°15: Indira Mateta

Africa is a Country (Old Site)

Indira Mateta is a young Angolan photographer who is taking her first steps in professional photography, transforming her hobby into a promising career. In 2008 she won the BESA Award for Photography in Luanda and has since had her work appear at the Teatro Elinga, the Catholic University of Angola, Oscar Ribas University, Instituto Camões de Maputo and the União de Artistas Plásticos Angolanos, among others. She was also featured in a documentary by Angolan photographer Kiluange Liberdade and writer Ondjaki, ‘Oxalá crescam pitangas’. Indira is the first Angolan photographer in this series: 

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