SAMANTHA TERRELL - POET / EIC, SHINE Poetry Series
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April 14~ SONGWRITER STEPHANIE PHILLIPS

4/14/2025

 
Poetry lovers, It's easy to take for granted the many ways poetry infiltrates culture, but song lyrics are one of the more obvious ones. So, today SHINE casts the spotlight on my big sister, talented musician and songwriter, Stephanie Phillips! Stephanie's brand new song "I Am America" is now available on your streaming platforms. She also shares a poem entitled, "Strength." Thanks, Stephanie, for sharing your beautiful words with SHINE international poetry series!

I Am America

I'm living in fear of my mom being taken
And now I'm forbidden to go off to school
Cause we are the ones who our country's forsaken
Even though we've always played by the rules
I'm living in chaos that always surrounds me
And my little sister who can't understand
I tell her she's safe if she just stays around me
But all I can do is hold tight to her hand


What will we do now? Where will we go?
This is the only home that I know
Why do they hate us? When will they see?
I am America, and she is in me
I am America, and she is in me


I live with the fear that my family could break up
And I would be forced to be man of the house
I keep hoping all of the threats are just made up
But Mama has warned me that she has no doubt
So every day worry's my constant companion
And I silently cry in my pillow at night
My sister is frightened that she'll be abandoned
But I just don't know how to make it all right


What will we do now? Where will we go?
This is the only home that I know
Why do they hate us? When will they see?
I am America, and she is in me
I am America, and she is in me


Lock all the doors, just stay inside
And pray that this war of hatred subsides
Look in my eyes as you throw the first stone
And know my demise is also your own


We live in the shadows with others just like us
And hold on to faith that God will provide
But we bear the blame from the ever self-righteous
And we are the ones with freedom denied

Strength

It is not conferred on convoys of tanks
filled with boot-clad militia men
nor on threats of nuclear attack by authoritarian tyrants.

Rather, it is seen in the frightened faces of mothers
who put their bodies between those of their babies
and the incoming shrapnel from enemy fire.

It is displayed in the throngs of youth,
willing to leave the comfort of their own freedom
to protect the freedom of others.

It is demonstrated in the hearts of countrymen
who risk their lives for the sake of democracy,
knowing wives and children
may forever be lost to them.

Strength is not a mantle to be thrown on like a crown
and removed when the weight of it
becomes unbearable.

It wells up from the unseen depths of faith
that can only be understood
by those who don’t speak any other language than love.
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Stephanie Phillips has been singing, playing guitar, and writing music from an early age. She has performed all over the United States, including many clubs in New York City such as the SpeakEasy and the Village Gate. A highlight of her career was opening for EmmyLou Harris in the 1990's. Stephanie describes her music as "progressive folk," taking her inspiration from giants such as Billy Joel, James Taylor, and Dan Fogelberg. Her music takes the listener on a sonic journey of all the emotional aspects of life - love, loss, hope, and despair. Stephanie is also not afraid to tackle social justice issues that arise in the nation and the world. Her latest CD, entitled “Certainly Love,” was released in August 2024. Stephanie's music can be found on digital platforms such as Apple Music and Spotify, as well as on her website: www.songwriterstephaniephillips.com.


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    SHINE - International Poetry Series

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    Click here for submissions and more
    From the international poetry community, we have a "luxury of stars," as Sylvia Plath might say, and it is SHINE's honor to provide a home for their words with the online Spotlight series as well as SHINE Quarterly. Click on the logo above to learn more. And...keep writing, keep shining!
    In poetry,
    Samantha Terrell, EIC
    SYLVIA PLATH
    Stars Over the Dordogne

    Stars are dropping thick as stones into the twiggy
    Picket of trees whose silhouette is darker
    Than the dark of the sky because it is quite starless.
    The woods are a well. The stars drop silently.
    They seem large, yet they drop, and no gap is visible.
    Nor do they send up fires where they fall
    Or any signal of distress or anxiousness.
    They are eaten immediately by the pines.

    Where I am at home, only the sparsest stars
    Arrive at twilight, and then after some effort.
    And they are wan, dulled by much travelling.
    The smaller and more timid never arrive at all
    But stay, sitting far out, in their own dust.
    They are orphans. I cannot see them. They are lost.
    But tonight they have discovered this river with no trouble,
    They are scrubbed and self-assured as the great planets.

    The Big Dipper is my only familiar.
    I miss Orion and Cassiopeia's Chair. Maybe they are
    Hanging shyly under the studded horizon
    Like a child's too-simple mathematical problem.
    Infinite number seems to be the issue up there.
    Or else they are present, and their disguise so bright
    I am overlooking them by looking too hard.
    Perhaps it is the season that is not right.

    And what if the sky here is no different,
    And it is my eyes that have been sharpening themselves?
    Such a luxury of stars would embarrass me.
    The few I am used to are plain and durable;
    I think they would not wish for this dressy backcloth
    Or much company, or the mildness of the south.
    They are too puritan and solitary for that--
    When one of them falls it leaves a space,

    A sense of absence in its old shining place.
    And where I lie now, back to my own dark star,
    I see those constellations in my head,
    Unwarmed by the sweet air of this peach orchard.
    There is too much ease here; these stars treat me too well.
    On this hill, with its view of lit castles, each swung bell
    Is accounting for its cow. I shut my eyes
    And drink the small night chill like news of home.

    ~~~

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