I am for

I am for healing
I am for the redistribution of resources
I am for hard truths
I am for discussing and confronting the invention of race
I am for art
I am for health
I am for all forms of self-determination
I am for blocking remotely, in reality and otherwise all those who seek to harm me, who seek to suspect me, who seek to rip me from my roots and tell me to start again.

I am for difficult conversations
I am for showing you my bones and blood and imperfections as proof of growth
I am for the separation of my soul from the brand of my name
I am for determining my own path
I am for soothsayers
I am for ceremony and prayer and song
I am for returning to the languages of my grandmothers
I am for storytelling as medicine
I am for vulnerability over preservation of the false self
I am for rearranging American English
I am for hot weather and cold weather and wind weather
I am for rivers of fresh water and communal resistance
I am for calling in
I am for anger when it rises
I am a passionate Italian-American woman
I am for returning again and again from disassociation triggered by early and repeated trauma
I am for our imperfections
I am for leading by example and being led by example
Not words or promises
I am for healing from the oldest of wounds
I am for your light
I am for mine
I am for this opportunity
to shift

Elizabeth Mariani


Published in Advaitam Speaks

I am pleased to announce one poem dedicated to Cacy Forgenie Things I learned out West and two pieces of visual art Futitility is Urban and Golden Strega Hemoglobinita have been recently published in the Advaitam Speaks: An international journal of poetry, poetics and visual arts. You can find my work on pages 45, 79 & 80.

the life & death exchange | october into 5777


This is life right now.

This is the hybrid fantastical.

Begin by   walking outside.

Open your mouth.


When the rain fills

Only then              will you heave

a repulsion of inauthentic energy

eager to capitalize on this particular season.


Give it a whiplash gif.

Face the gravel, the tar, the ground, the earth.


From the mouth

all liquid-like fluid gravitates into

predictable waterfalls of bottled turquoise.

into rivers of gestured azul.


This is how the sun follows.

To beings like this

it becomes innate.

We leisurely refract this and every autumnal scour

with equal abrasion                            for the giving.


Only then

will fuschia flood.

Only then

will blood red.  


Elizabeth Mariani