From 1969 to 1974, a group of Asian American activists in Los Angeles published a monthly newsprint journal, Gidra. I came across the following poem by Pat Sumi in my reading in Asian Americans: The Movement and the Moment:
To My Asian Brothers
Clarity of vision
of perception
is a color not possible
in Los Angeles
To the far horizons
the city slumbers
smoulders
in its brown chemistry
of Babylonian chains
Chains
bind my feet
my eyes
as I stumble along the yellow mosaic
Carefully, I search for the missing pieces
There...
a glittering piece
a sparkle of discovery
My family sword is found
to strike my chains of sorrow
But the chains merely part
then re-form
In despair
I stumble
Brother!
Now I see you so near
You give me strength to rise again
But why are you so still
so stoic
brother?
Chains of Babylon
bind us together
but we do not touch
With this sword
I would free you
But where are your chains?
They are not like mine
In your eyes
I see your spirit
bound by chains
by burdens
by weight
by heart
so heavy
the sword cannot free you
yet
As you stand so still
your eyes
steadily mirror
a painful past
Do you see
grandfather back bent
worked to the ground?
Do you see
father barb bound
concentration sent?
Do you see
brother Asian death
Vietnam sent?
Do you see
the unshed tears
the unavenged humiliation?
Do you see
as you stand so still
so stoic?
To be a man
to be free
to love
to walk proud
in a clear night
to be a gentle lover
to a home
is a life not possible
in Los Angeles
But history is not defeat
weakness
sorrow
The back is bent but unbroken
The spirit is bound but unbroken
And you, brother,
are chained but unbroken
Strength is will
is spirit
is soul
is love
is unity
As we speak
the world has turned
a revolution
a great victory in the East
Clarity of vision
of perception
is a color possible
by a new light
by a new day dawning
The burdens of grandfather
father
brother
become light by this new day
The sword glitters and sparkles
with piercing red fire
smokeless
pure
to shatter the chains
Yes!
We are free!
Yes!
You are free
to be a man
Chains
are to be thrown away
so we walk freely
Eyes
are to be free
to see us and the world
in the light of a new day dawning
Brother!
Come join hands with me
we have been separated too long
A home of revolution
of love
for us is possible
in Los Angeles
--Pat Sumi, 1970
I've heard that the original Gidra was put together in a sort of co-op house somewhere in South Los Angeles. It was a political journal that was sometimes an inch thick. Inspiring.
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