My love for my mentor
and big sis, Judith. I know death is rising over the mountains,
slowly, and the
But it’s not about
me, and I am sure she left some of her heart and spirit inside each
of us— a shining light in darkness. Judith’s curiosity and
loyalty is unmatched even by goddesses or gods. If she believed in
you, she inspired you to be yourself and change the world, if only
the small
world you knew. She lies there holding hands with death,
and yet no bitterness enters her heart, and joy fills her spirit. She
has made everyone better by her presence and walk in this life, and
Judith’s love and magic live on in all of us who knew her and were
and still are blessed by her.
Judith, you left no one
behind because we all go with you and you with us! I love you, Big
Sis.
Today I spoke to Judith
for
the last time.
She is the bravest
person I know
despite the tremendous
pain
cutting at her body.
She said her time is
close
to gone and reminded me
to write something
knowing already that I
would.
She is my mentor and
big sis,
and one of my best
friends ever.
She inspired and saw in
me things
I would have never seen
in myself.
I grew wings because of
her.
Our spirits and hearts
and our love
were linked from the
beginning.
Even in our silence—you
like
Mr. Samuel Beckett—we
treasured
our silence.
I missed you long
before
you were gone.
We will meet again long
across time and space
beyond dreams and
boundaries.
December 3 and 4, no
word from Judith and I keep trying to call. Anja received an email
saying death is very close, so I picked up the frequency of my calls,
and we connected briefly and expressed our love. Yesterday, I got a
card from Judith, and she said it was a prayer she read or recited
each time she went into San Quentin.
I knew she was gone
three days before Anja tried to tell me over the phone. I asked her
not to say those words, and I had to leave the phone because what I
already knew in silence became too strong. I tried to get away and
went outside and had nowhere to go—no place to hide my tears—and
a stormy dark sky betrayed me and did not rain. It had been raining
for two days. Judith Tannenbaum, my mentor and big sister—I did not
get to hug and say so long—I’ll see you some other time and space
over there where loved ones go. Another dimension beyond dreams,
darkness and light. I missed you already even before you were gone.
I’ll be free someday too, and we will fly together—someday, Big
Sis. We wanted to do poetry on stage together. I love you.
I knew Judith
was physically gone
yet I called her number
and let the phone ring
anyways
knowing no one would
pick up.
It would take decades
of rain
for my tears to be
unseen.
There is not enough
rain
to hold my pain,
not enough rain
to hide the pain
of my not being there.
You were always there
like an ancient
redwood.
You told me you lay
on the floor
and found solace
from a radio show
in New Orleans,
radio that took you
away
from the pain.
I should have been
beside you
on the floor listening.
I should have been
beside you
on long walks or hikes
up Mt. Tam.
I should have been
beside you
on stage, going back
and forth
reading poetry.
I should have been
beside you
because.
Spoon Jackson
First published by The Justice Arts Coalition
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