PORT ANGELES — Even as symbols of death stood around them, the men and the women sang hopeful songs about life.
Their songs, in the form of poetry, short stories and finally the sinewy sounds of an electric guitar, filled the Elwha Klallam Heritage Center last Tuesday night.
The evening, to mark Domestic Violence Awareness Month, became a survey of real-life comedy and tragedy, told by people you might not expect to appear at a poetry reading.
“Don’t go back,” began Christopher Thomas, a member of the Indian Voices writing group that hosted the open-mic night.
Then the enormous man paused, bowing his head. This poem is titled From a Friend, and it is his plea to a woman enmeshed in a brutal relationship.
“Don’t go back to the blue and the black,” Thomas said.
“Don’t go back . . . to the list of excuses.”
The poet stopped again, overcome by tears. The audience sat in perfect silence.
“Sorry,” Thomas said.
Then he finished “From a Friend” and went on to read a few of his trademark comedic poems.
His few minutes at the podium epitomized the evening, sprinkled as it was with smiles and tears.
Domestic violence
Each reader who stepped forward shared statistics about domestic violence in Indian Country, about how native women suffer far higher rates of abuse than white women do.
And along the walls of the Elwha center stood the Silent Witness Display silhouettes, life-size figures representing women, men and children in Washington state who have died at the hands of their abusers.
The Indian Voices writing group meets monthly at the Elwha center; Suzie Bennett and other members of the group wanted to invite the public to an evening to raise awareness of domestic abuse.
On Tuesday night, one woman told her shocking story in one long poem: How she left her abusive husband 10 times before breaking free for good.
Also Tuesday, a young man stood up to read his true tale of parents he watched struggled with alcohol.
Other tales
Lots of other stories came tumbling out, too.
Zak Greene, in a rhythmic, slam-poet style, defied the oppression of his people in “Place Me a Reservation on the Indian Rezervation” and “Radically, I Am.”
The 20-year-old member of the Makah tribe, a Peninsula College student, is also a member of the Indian Voices group.
And Meri Parker, the Makah tribe’s general manager, read a detailed and humorous poem about her crossover to Facebook and smartphone.
Brenda Francis, communications manager for the Lower Elwha Klallam tribe — and Thomas’ fiancee — read a reverent piece titled “My Parents” and an irreverent tale about the hijinks that go on during the July tribal canoe journeys.
“Rez drama” was the refrain throughout that one, titled “Crazy Journey.”
Another of the poets appeared for the first time at an Indian Voices gathering; he had wanted to come for a while and had two poems ready to go.
So Trent Crable, a towering figure in a black coat and horn-rimmed glasses, walked to the front.
Crable, a Makah who grew up in California, is now the legal counsel for the Elwha tribe.
As if to show the assembly the men of the future, Crable’s 3-year-old son Carver — named after the late writer Raymond Carver — strode forward too.
“I don’t know if he’s going to let me do this,” Crable said.
But as he offered his poems, “Waiting for the 33” and “Laundry,” Carver stood close beside his father’s leg, not a word or a fidget in sight.
Then, poems read, father and son walked back to their seats, the picture of dignity.
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Features Editor Diane Urbani de la Paz can be reached at 360-417-3550 or at diane.urbani@peninsuladailynews.com.
