Breaking the Walls of Bias:
Art from Survivors
The gallery opening included a musical performance by the Thunder Bird Sisters. This exhibition includes paintings, mixed media, works on paper, sculpture, poetry, SAF Outreach Projects, and a work on film by Judith Doyle. The exhibition contiues through August 2, 2002, and is held at the Emily Lowe Gallery, South Campus, Hofstra University, Hempstead, New York. Details and directions
Left to right: “Kaleidescope Eyes” by George Mendoza,”Firesinger” by Bennett Sykes Blackburn, and “The Peace of the World is in My Veins” by Maggie Parr
Selections from Poetry featured in the Show program:
I Circle Round In Wild Dis Grace
by Suzanne Stutman
I circle round
in wild dis grace
a lost and burning
pumpkin face.
My eyes and mouth
are fire
Lit
by truth and by
remembering.
I have no feet, no
hands,
No face,
I cannot sit, or
stand
Or race,
I’m rimmed and ugly
in dis grace,
A lost and
burning
pumpkin face.
11.22.01
by Susan Adsit
kaleidoscope scheming
wandering dreaming
silently screaming
do you know who i am?
scar-banded arm
can’t stop self-harm
no sanity alarm
do you know who i am?
druggedly sleeping
dreams i’m not keeping
still but still leaping
do you know who i am?
On Disabled Children
by Connie Panzarino
Don’t rip these children
From their wombs
Merely because they have no limbs
With which to grasp
Blind eyes plead
Not to be destroyed
Like brioken toys
The Nazis cut
To perfect the master race
Dedicated to Jonella Marie Sabri
by Mark Kramer
Just in the off-chance case, My Lord, that You do not exist,
obedient (inconsolable, no doubt) to such I shall defer.
Nevertheless, there is one soul for whom I must resist,
earnestly falling to my knees, beseeching, “Be, if just for her.”
lacking all, even to the clost of self, she gave her heart.
loving, kind, and loved, this tender soul from us did part,
and at the seams, held by her love, I come apart.
Motherly, she once took my hand to show me her safe haven,
accompanying me into the lion’s den, to make it my abode –
rewinged underneath the narrow Gate glids now the newborn raven.
ironically, the bravest of them all became my friend: geode;
even more astonishing than that, she could love a heart so craven.
Said it is, that for each star that leaves the sky, we get a wish.
although no sooner than my plea had formed, I knew it was too tall;
but have you know, that while against life’s standing dish,
really wishing on the fallen star, I wish it did not fall:
iceAngel, now playing in God’s attic, worked here here colormagic.
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