Who Came Before Us

Open Write is a community meet-up to write poetry on the third Friday of every month for four days—an invitation to write, read, and reflect together. You’re welcome to write a poem each day or to come and go as you need. You can also read and leave a brief note—a line you loved, an image that stayed, a feeling a poem stirred—as a way of participating, too. We’re glad you’re here.

Our Host Mo Daley

Mo lives in the suburbs of Chicago with her patient husband and two spoiled dogs, Jimmy and Lizzie. Mo has served on the Rebecca Caudill Young Reader’s Book Award Committee in Illinois for the last ten years. Mo continues to work as a worldwide literacy advocate and is planning her third trip to Kenya with Kenya Connect. Her free time is spent on a lake with her two amazing grandchildren.

Inspiration 

As fall approaches, I can’t stop thinking about changes and shifts. Of course, the changing colors of Midwestern trees are always inspirational, but something else has been on my mind lately.

I look around and see the land and how I have worked with it and changed it, which leads me to wonder about those who came here before me.

Process

Consider your surroundings. How would you describe them? Have they always looked this way? Who was there before you? Perhaps 20, 50, or 100 years ago? How about long before then? Do you know what indigenous tribes were living there hundreds of years ago? You can enter your address in this online tool to inform you.

Take a few moments to think about those who came before you. What might they think about your surroundings today? 

As a tribute to those who came before us, write a poem about the land around you. Choose any form you’d like. Perhaps an etheree, nonet, haiku, or free-verse poem is calling to you today.

Mo”s Poem

Ashosikwimia’kuk
In my garden I grow echinacea, or purple coneflower,
a native plant that can cure sore throats, the flu, and even skin damage
but it couldn’t help to ease the pain
of the indigenous Potawatomi when their land was stolen
and their children died on the Trail of Death-
there was no immunity against hatred

Your Turn

Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers.