Transcript
Unknown Speaker (0:00)
If you could hear love, what would it sound like?
Major Jackson (0:11)
Son, can we talk about your drinking? Yeah, Dad, I think we should.
Unknown Speaker (0:19)
Helping those closest to you think about their excessive drinking. Maybe that's what love sounds like. More@rethinkthedrink.com An OHA initiative major here.
Major Jackson (0:33)
I want to thank you, our listeners, for joining us on the Slowdown each weekday. Whether you press play for a moment of calm or to find vivid inspiration, we're glad you're here. Because you believe in the power of poems, I hope you'll consider making a tax deductible gift today. Support from listeners like you makes this podcast possible. Contribute today@slowdownshow.org donate or find the link in the show Notes. Thanks. I'm Major Jackson and this is the Slowdown. Long ago I knew I needed a new conception of heaven, the one with pearly white gates and winged angels from my youth and church just wasn't working for me. I mean, I get clouds and blue skies as symbols of ascension from from earthly planes. And it wasn't just in church. Heaven was everywhere, in museums and in movies too. But those early images lodged into my subconscious weren't inclusive or realistic. Except for the 1936 Hollywood classic Green Pastures. I like the idea of heaven that is paradise imagined. It is low key, political, and I think we should conceptualize our notions of heaven, one that is secular and functional. As Belinda Carlisle sang in the 80s, heaven is a place on earth. Constructing one's celestial city, one's promised land, is empowering. It's a radical act that forces us to imagine our freedom. It's the place where our longings and sense of justice coalesce into a vision that we can work toward that is here right now. For example, if your vision of heaven doesn't include environmental waste, then we can fight today against companies polluting rivers and waterways. Or if your image of heaven is a planet where hate has no home and love permeates all of our interactions, then we can advocate for human connections. Over dinner recently, I inquired of friends what their yonder looks like. One said, it is a place where I know all the answers to the questions that have plagued me. Another said, all of my dogs are there. Today's poem critiques the damaging effect of canonical images of heaven and all its associative patriarchal symbolism while wishing for a mother's release out of fear and then to herself, voice clear as by Kimmy Alaby when my mom discovers heaven's just a noise festival, the God choir of all her loves, breathing unsnagged by asthma or Newport dragged lung the true song life makes untethered from a body tugged at last from the men who hold its reins. Will she blame her pastors like I did for Sunday portraits of pooled white gold? Will she miss the wooden flute of her body, Mourn the days corner propped cloaked in dust too pious to disturb a room's skin cells and stray hair with her sound snapped awake at the nightmare of a slip fringe the private note sung aloud or unburdened by hell? Will she excel and hear the bells? The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram at slowdownshow. When work gets crazy, I like to stop by the bar after have a few cold ones. I don't drink at all until 4:00. We limit ourselves to one bottle of wine a night.
![[encore] 1163: Voice Clear As by Kemi Alabi - The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily cover](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fimg.apmcdn.org%2Fb9e989ce3983eae1a15aaa905684a36f058a05b1%2Fsquare%2Fce9d3f-20240714-20240717-sd-2000.jpg&w=1920&q=75)