Transcript
A (0:00)
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B (0:32)
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C (1:06)
I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown One of my favorite things about words is their history. As a writer, I'm curious about the words I choose for my poems. When I look up the origin of a word, it's like unfolding a map and seeing the journey that word has taken to reach me. Suddenly I know it better. It feels special to me, like a friend. Let's take the word migrant, for example, a word I've used in a poem. Migrant comes from the Latin migrens, meaning changing place. So a migrant is one who moves from place to place. The adjective migratory is related to migrant, as in migratory birds. The verb migrate is related to on any given day, reading or watching or listening to the news, I'm confronted with divisive arguments about where people belong. All over the world, there are violent conflicts over land invasions and occupations. In the US There is so much talk about our borders and about immigrants, and particularly alarming lately, talk about citizenship. Many of those arguments seem so focused on difference that they ignore our common humanity. The words we use matter. The language we choose can strip a person's dignity from them or restore that dignity. When undocumented immigrants are called illegals or illegal aliens, those words carry meaning. They also carry a heavy negative connotation. Those terms are dehumanizing, and I think that's the point. I've been listening to the words being used for immigrants, for refugees, and for asylum seekers in this country, and I have been watching their mistreatment. I have friends who work at elementary schools and and who are afraid that ICE will come and take their students or their students, parents from school. I have friends who are afraid for their loved ones, their neighbors, their co workers. This country does not feel like a place of freedom and possibility for those seeking a better life, it feels like an increasingly hostile place. Today's poem looks at the word migrant and its meaning apart from the current political climate. Movement from place to place, after all, suggests possibility, opportunity and agency. To migrate, whether you can fly or not, is to be free. Migrant by Tiana Nobile of an animal, especially a bird, a wandering species whom no seas nor places limit A seed who survives despite the depths of hard win the ripple of a herring steering her band from seas of ice to warmer strands to find the usual watering places despite the gauze of death that shrouds our eyes is a breathtaking feat. Do you ever wonder why we felt like happy birds, brushing our feathers on the tips of leaves? How we lifted our toes from one bank of sand and landed fingertips first on another? Why we clutched the dumb and tiny creatures of flower and blade and sod between our budding fists? From an origin of buried seeds emerge these many banded dagger wings. We of the sky, the dirt and the sea, we the seven league booters and the little by littlers we transmigrated souls will prevail. We will carry ourselves into the realms of light. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. And find us on Instagram at slowdown show and blueskylowdownshow.org hi, it's Maggie. The Slowdown is the only poetry podcast in public media. That means your support is vital to keep us going. No matter how much you give, your contribution makes a real difference. Head to SlowdownShow.org donate today to Power More Poems into the Future.
