Prompted by @RuizSealey in a @NCTE Gathering After a Day of Writing (Reading) at the Beach

Because I had great success writing in the morning, I said, "Crandall, the weather is ridiculously warm for November and they're calling for rain for the next three days, so get yourself to the beach and read for a couple of hours." I listened to myself and that is exactly what I did (totally mesmerized by Varian Johnson's The Parker Inheritance). Phew, Kwame. These books you keep sending me. I've not read a lot of mystery in my lifetime, but I know from the sketchpad I have beside me trying to figure out clues and unravel possibilities that this might be a genre I need to explore more. This is an incredible book and I hope it inspires generations of critical thinkers who pick it up!

Meanwhile, I saw the National Council of Teachers of English was hosting my friend Yolanda Sealey-Ruiz for a membership gathering and, with anticipation of our annual conference in a couple of weeks, I couldn't help but sign up for this session. There are some people in the universe that simply bring a person joy, and Yolanda is one of these people for me. I can't resist. 

Yolanda kicked us off with three questions: (1) Where does love show up in your work?, (2)What does love mean to me?, and (3)What person or book represents love to you? (I put in the chart, "Great. I will see you in a year when I finish my manuscript." Just a few light questions for a Tuesday night!)

Actually, in my current quest of scribbling sestinas before I go to bed, I thought, "Why not write a reflection of her question in poetic fashion?" I was fortunate to be placed in a break-out group with Antero Garcia and Mike Jones (who happens to live in CT, too...although I don't know him), and stole words from them both. My response at first gave me six words to play with:  (1) youth/listening, (2) community/pond, (3) Yolanda/The Color Purple. Then, listening to her talk to the NCTE community (stealing words from her, as well), and adhering to the prompt, the following sestina was born (I compose fast):

Dear Yolanda, A Sestina (for, of, from, with) You

Funny how I’m hidden away from the young people I love, the youth,

and licensed to be a loner. I'm the village idiot thrown away from the community

(granted I'm on sabbatical), trying not to become too radical (Oh, but Yolanda

NCTE’s guest for English teachers!!!!). You speak and I find myself listening,

sweating in crush-nerves and glistening with admiration). Oh, Frog and his pond…

All these watercolors: green, blue, yellow, orange, and always the color purple…

because I’ve been sketching with Alice, and walking with her color purple

ever since I graduated high school and turned away from my childhood, my youth:

it's the metamorphosis of everything and began with lakes and rivers sculpted into this pond, 

this fellowship of dragonflies, turtles, eagles, rabbits, and pelicans (so many others) in a community

of justice (love), revisiting (resisting) history for a better understanding of life, and listening

to those songs yet to be composed. Yes, liberation comes from critical love, Yolanda.

and when I find myself digging an archaeology of self, escalating (tripping) over footsteps, Yolie,

I end up in my library of life - the books that change me - The Color Purple,

Siddhartha, All the Broken Pieces, Perks, Charlie, Perks (too many to name), as I’ve been listening

to others (spiritually and academically) to collect poetic language for educators and youth,

bringing ancestors together in unexpected conversations while I stand incognito in a community

like ours. They. This. Makes me. I, myself. We becomes us, togetherness, through our pondering

of questions, ideas, worries, dreams, & curiosities in our notebooks. It is our pounding

purpose, meaning, and being through all the love the vortex allows. Ah, Yolanda,

inshallah, attempting to find myself worthy of the children before me, their community

of Crayola box crayons and unwritten tomorrows, their royalty, with the color purple

a testimony of women and men, strength, and promise...ah, youth.

I’m an 80s teen, babied in the 70s, but I’ve been unlearning, listening,

orchestrating, composing, dancing, moving, and listening

to the ways cattails sing, butterflies flutter, and Gholdy-fish cake-walk across the pond.

I hear the stories (the secrets), the narratives (the scripts) - the tales only youth

can tell. I read their hope and love (twins), Yolanda,

Shug's epiphany, Celie's forgiveness: wholeness -“everything will be okay in the end" ~ The Color Purple.

Yesterday touches its fingertips with the hands of today so we can have tomorrow's community

of dreamers. I am, because we are. Motho ke motho ka batho ba bangwe, our diverse community

continues to read, present, experience, develop, challengs, and listen

to the songs of The Great Whatever while performing wisdom within proud, purple colors. 

The happiest people don’t have the best of everything; instead, they have a pond

 and make the best of everything they have (Son of a Butch, Yolanda,

I'm so lucky to have you in my sphere - you're so good/beautiful to educators and youth)

This, I write for a community, prompted with three questions thrown at the Pond.

This, I write as I wonder and listen to the Sealey-Ruiz herself, Yolanda

This for all the colors (purple, in particular) and the possibilities of our youth.

I appreciate the opportunity to think about her excellence once again.