Poetry and music have the capacity to highlight our histories, our longings and dreams. Together they have the power to create a bridge between people and cultures where we can meet and truly see each other. Saunder and I hope we are able to create that space for you through our collaborative creation; a place where we encounter the pain of loss, but also hope and pride in the cultural heritage immigrant contribute to their adopted communities.
SONG OF EXILE
Sholeh Wolpé (text), Saunder Choi (composition) for adult and children’s choir [commissioned and performed by Arlington Chorale June 2023)
Adults and Children
We who left home, ran
towards blackthorn walls,
children who crossed boundaries,
torn by its thousand serrated tongues;
we who bear scars that bloom and bloom
beneath healed skins,
who have we become?
Beh keh badal Sho-deh-eem
Adults
Home is a missing tooth.
The tongue reaches for hardness
but falls into absence.
Absence.
Will we go back one day?
Rub our cheeks against our old house door.
Will it open its timber arms
widen its wooden jaw? Let us in.
Or will it creak shut, slam, betray?
Loss is a language we all speak well,
a body-moan that echoes between ribs.
Home is a missing tooth.
Khaneh dandaneest Ghayeb
Who have we become?
Children
Home is the beat of your heart.
Khaneh tapesh-eh ghalb ast (خانه تپش قلب است )
Carry seeds from home in your mouths.
Plant turmeric, cardamom, and saffron.
Water them with your grandmother’s songs.
They will grow, they will,
against these blackthorn walls.
Adults
We are shoreless lakes, skirt-less mountains.
Our scars bloom and bloom beneath healed skin.
Hours fall backward
into our eyes,
into our souls.
The sun will burn us in exile.
Children
The sun will give you daisies.
It will give you groves of pear.
Adults
Our scars bloom and bloom beneath healed skin.
Children
Your downfall is your windfall.
Carry seeds from home in your mouths.
Plant turmeric, cardamom, and saffron.
Water them with your grandmother’s songs.
They will grow, they will,
against these blackthorn walls.
Adults
Against these blackthorn walls.
Our downfall is our windfall.
We will root into fields
with our grandmothers’ songs.
Adults and Children
What is a transplanted tree
but a time being
who has adapted to adoption?
We are seeds in the wind.
Turmeric, cardamom, and saffron.
We sing our grandmothers’ songs.
Loss is a language we all speak well.
It is a downfall that becomes windfall.
Seeds in the wind.
We will grow against all blackthorn walls.
Khaneh tapesheh ghalb ast (خانه تپش قلب است )
We carry home in the beat of our hearts.