The Meal is a Lie by HanaLena Fennel – Resistance Reading Fundraiser for RAICES

A Word About the Event:

I was extremely excited I was able to make it out to the Resistance Reading Fundraiser for RAICES on Wednesday night and what a beautiful experience it was!

I was inspired watching HanaLena Fennel and Ra Avis read their work for such a wonderful cause. Their poems were moving, and I would be lying if I said there weren’t points that my eyes welled with tears.

An abundance of love was pouring out from them, calling for the justice of immigrants and refugees. These poets were bold and wore their hearts on their sleeves as they used their art for something bigger than themselves. Through their talents they encouraged others to use their voice as well, reminding us that if we all give just a small bit of ourselves, great change can happen. In a time that is hard to watch what is going on in the world, and the traumas and atrocities happening all around us, it was refreshing to witness people sharing their compassion.

Their event has ended, but their fundraising has not! You are still able to participate by going to:

Other ways to help:

– Write a letter to your representatives, senate, and local political officials.
– Contact your governor, who can aid in establishing sanctuary cities and preventing state level guard from being used as a resource by ICE
– Encourage your city officials to prevent local enforcement from cooperating with ICE
– Donate to an organization of your choice that you trust is doing their utmost to help refugees and immigrants who are adversely affected by this targeting
– Use your voice however you speak the loudest—through art, music, writing, conversation—to keep awareness spreading in your community
– Share posts on social media. Keep sharing. Don’t let this conversation drop.  

Please enjoy the following poem by the co-host of the fundraiser, HanaLena Fennel:

The Meal Is a Lie

The meal is a lie. Fingernail crescents, angel hairs, sustenance.

Sustenance will never be these things we discard.

Discard the coil of a hello tongue or last kiss.

Kiss the breath through sugared hands of child, of silence, of gimme.

Gimme surrender, body prostrate before windmill.

This is not grain or flour. The lance is spent, piked in the wildflowers.

We have tilted and the earth refused to budge.

About the Art & Artist:

HanaLena Fennel is a Jewish-Hawaiian American poet. This poem is from her book, Letters to the Leader, published by Moon Tide Press in response to the numerous executive orders issued during Trump’s term in office. 


Protest Against the Inhumane Treatment of Immigrants

Recently, I have found myself crying almost every time I’m on social media. Not a normal go to for me, but the pervasive amount of destruction going on with the immigrant refugees is only continuing to grow. The detention centers that have morphed into concentration camps is so appalling to me that I can barely handle it. My heart keeps breaking that such horrible treatment of other human beings are happening right here. Not in other countries far far away, but right around the corner from me. I ache at every separation of family and every child dying from neglect. I don’t even know how to begin to stop it from happening.

I’ve grown up hearing the stories of the WWII, the holocaust, being taught about the atrocities that occurred during that time. I cannot stand and watch it start to happen again without some sort of fight. However, I have been struggling to find anything I can do to help these poor people.

So, I did what I always do when I find myself feeling helpless. I sat down and started writing. This time it was a song that came out. My song of protest. It may not be much, but it’s all I have right now.

Take Action

I don’t know what your politics are, and I don’t need to know. Democrat, Republican, or other, I ask that if you have anything you can do, please fight this. We must stop this barbaric treatment of our fellow man.

These immigrants are human beings that we share this earth with who are looking for safety. People looking for survival. They are just as deserving of love and kindness as much as anybody. With all of the freedoms we have in this country, I feel like we should be sharing our freedoms, not killing those who are asking help to attain the same.

So far, I have been able to find some action to be taken by signing petitions or donating to the ACLU:


Donating to Raices so that attorneys have the means to take on the immigration cases in court:

Please help me in taking the time to choose even the smallest bit of action, whether it be signing the petitions or sharing the information. Just something to help this from becoming worse than it already is.

If you know of other ways to help support immigration, please share it in the comments.


When will you hear the voices

What will happen before you do

A slaughtering of constitution

What are we bearing witness to?

Shouldn’t a mother’s tears count as a thousand voices

A child’s life a million more

What will it take

What will it take to open the door?

How many voices do you need?

How many will be satisfactory?

Consider this one more

In your directory

For the plea

Of humanity

Close your eyes

You only see in black and white

Try another one of your senses

Maybe you’ll understand the plight

How many voices do you need?

How many will be satisfactory?

Consider this one more

In your directory

For the plea

Of humanity

Aren’t you haunted by the crying

Don’t you ache with the dying?

How many voices do you need

For there to be humanity

When will you hear the voices?

The Art of Depression: Kirsty Niven


Kirsty Niven

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I have become utterly numb.
My skin has hardened to cement,
a statuesque shell of dissociation.
Blood streaks my skin, bruises blossom,
but no pain can get in.
This cocoon has petrified itself around me,
solidifying under every slight,
every glancing blow, every slice.
I watch the cigar burn down
until the embers graze my calloused fingers,
just to see if I can still burn.
The singed scent fills my nostrils
and yet coldly I only look on.
A laceration, a punch, a kiss from the whip –
and still nothing is all I feel.
Each nerve is dead, stillborn in my veins.
Love ricochets against me, unrecognised –
too foreign a concept to a fossilised soul.
Only the nectar drips of wine seep through
the stone of my scar tissue;
a red tear leaking through my mask.

Are You Looking For Poetry Opportunities?

To my Poetry Ponderbots:

I just happened across this site and thought to myself what a fabulous opportunity! I jumped right on it and just had to share it with you all. Check it out if you are looking to enter a poetry contest:

$4,000 Palette Poetry Prize

Deadline is April 15th. Submission is $20.

Also, just a reminder, we have still have 3 more poets coming up to be featured this week! We had the intriguing work of James Pompey last week and keep an eye out for the upcoming poets below:

Heather Pease – April 10th, 2019

Christina Brown – April 17th, 2019

Travis Atkinsonsessler – April 24th, 2019

Let their work excite you, ignite you, and fill you with passion!

*Disclaimer: Some poems are mature topics. Reader discretion advised.

Follow my blog so you don’t miss these remarkable poets.