Poetry Slam: “Hebrew Mamita”

Hebrew Mamita – Jessica Thurston

Around Yom Kippur I posted a video of  Vanessa Hidary reciting her signature piece entitled “Hebrew Mamita.” I have long loved this piece and spoken word poetry in general, so when a friend from CUFI asked me if i could come up with something artsy to help celebrate Israeli independence at the campus I-Fest (Israeli Festival), this was the first thing to come to mind.

The quality of my video is nothing compared to Hidary’s, but I think I did well and made the piece my own. Heck, I’m amazed that I was able to even memorize the thing!

Also, yes, I do censor myself.

And I’m not wearing shoes.

Muse Creative Arts Ministry Presents "The Chains"

I kind of helped my graphic design/film/broadcasting/ dancer friend Aubrey with this design. He did all of the cool stuff. I did the boxes and text.

And if you are anywhere near Rochester, you should come tomorrow!

Let My People Go: A Poem from "The Chains"

Muse Creative Arts Ministry is in the thick of rehearsals for our first-ever show, “The Chains.” We’ve created a synthesis of poetry, drama, dance, and music that really blows the mind in terms of just how much unseen bondage there is in the typical human experience.

I’m so proud of what we’ve made together. I wanted to give you guys a preview of all of our hard work. 

This particular piece is by yours truly, and it will be concluding “The Chains” on the nights of November 28th and 29th.

Let My People Go

My people are in chains.

They grovel in prisons that look like homes

Dungeons that look like farms and plantations

And jail cells that look like souls.

Everywhere I turn, I see the ice-cold links dripping from their limbs.

I hear the solemn, rhythmic clang of metal against floors and flesh

The frantic shouts of child soldiers forced into the fray of battle

The midnight sobs of women caged to provide pleasure for a price

The muffled heaving of bulimics behind closed bathroom doors

The breaking backs of boys who will never escape their country’s caste system

The cursings of widowed fathers who swear they will never love again

The silence of wives loyally suffering at the hands of their husbands’ rage

The strangled wails of depression

The stifled screams of hatred

The grinding grip of a crippling grudge

The judgmental stares from you who have never known anything but freedom

I follow the chain gang to work

To school

To church

Slaves, one and all

Enslaved by others like them

Enslaved by darkness itself

Or enslaved by themselves, blind to their self-imposed oppression

But the chains are always the same.

The chains . . .

They dig into our wrists and ankles

Into our hearts and minds

I . . . I am in chains.

I watch my people suffer as I waste away on my own

Alone in the company of a million more captives.

I reach out to ease their suffering

And fall back on my own weight

Snapped to a stop by chains around my neck

My arms

My legs

My spirit

My people are in chains.

If You won’t show me how, I beg You

Show Yourself to me, and let my people go.

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