Grade school children
Early childhood
Most unspoiled, tender
I drink your innocence
I could lay down
during naptime
Can we all just lay down and rest?
Free of adult contrivances
You say ‘I’m sorry’ and everyone means it
Feeling gates wide open
If one hurts, all those around
sense it, know it, feel it
Carefree joy is contagious
A wellspring of delight
Spend some time there
The reward is sheer grace
Three teens’ chlorine waves,
met a new pal on the Boardwalk
she was warm-eyed soft skinned & kind
shared my sand bucket shovel & shell i did find
built a sand castle under a red & white umbrella
mom took black & white photos
no colored back then
two little girls
one with the softest black hand
we danced in the waves as they rolled in & out
planted feet in the sand ~ pretended to go backwards
still standing still
two innocent little girls
funning & sunning at the shore
eye to eye ~ skin to skin ~ black & white
freedom to choose
one softer than me
Every song is still about you.
Can’t listen to our favorites anymore.
I try to move through,
but can’t forget that sweater you wore.
I see you everywhere
never to lay eyes on you again.
I’m just talking to air.
I’ll never know what could have been.
Tell me how to forget you,
to fill this void in my chest.
Just give me a clue.
Would I if I could? I always loved you best.
The forecast for the evening commute looked worse than average
so I elected to take an alternate route
and apparently, so did everyone else
I don’t think I made it home any faster
but I saw a lot of horses
and a pelican flying
I definitely yelled FUCK
a lot less than normal
so that’s probably something
Aardvark
What are you?
Are you a creature of the night
Are you a God during the day
The stories and tales written of you says so
All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence
You must be a great and powerful being
You must You Must
You Must stand 20 stories as you look
down upon all that happen to look upon your brimstone eyes
All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence
Your skin
Your mighty skin
Layers and layers of armor
Where no knife, sword or cannon can
pierce through your armor
All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence
Your wings
Angelic
Bring forth tornadoes and floods for every flap in sky
For villages have praised your name in
protection against these disasters
All creatures must fear and cower while in your presence
Fangs
Marvelous fangs
Protruding from your mouth to form horns
No land or beast can stand a chance against
Your horns
These horns that grow and grow to form a crown
To let all those know that we pray to you
Aardvark
From ancient times to now
You have ruled this land
Even our ancient ones
Who were blind and couldn’t see
Felt your presence
These stories we will pray, fear and remember you by
No Shame Thoughts
Once, I made the mistake of recommending
chicken livers to a boyfriend, and it
cracked our foundation, it sure did. This is
one reason I do not like to color or persuade or
dissuade or have any suade
about anything for anyone…
Oh, Shi*t Thoughts
If I am being honest, I want to sit…think on the differences between…real-life happenings and man-made realities…pretend we are having toasted onion bagels with tomato slices and fresh-squeezed orange juice, ok… that fresh sort of lived-in fanciness is what I love about visiting dirty cities with corner delis… who needs a parking lot when you can step over sidewalk gum and order five different feta salads…you ever think about Jesus, covered in fear, asking his dad for help in that garden…the way it’s told, been passed down…flown through the time zones of morality… you’d think he paused… in some type of spiritual armor…took it like some sort of man…for the good of his flock…for his team’s health…but… I think he was really scared…like in over your head, it’s the 90s, no cell phone, get home or get grounded, scared… I think he wept loudly like we all do when something bad happens…when we have to go on…you know… alone…when we have to decide to keep walking…to do the right thing…with only indigestion and sorrow and the voice of God telling us where the potholes are…..I think about all of it sometimes…usually, a few times a week…
Own It Thoughts
Also, this morning,
when I stood on the porch
braless and barefooted, watching
my Zinnias fight against the high winds,
I admitted to myself that I have never wanted
my enemies or fears to become
the enemies or fear of others just because…
I do not like to live in the Land of Just Because…
too much time is wasted or ill-spent by folks
calling other folks into their just becauseness…
I’m just saying…
The poet, who is serious about The Golden Rule, still bleeds like most people, and willingly accepts all ownership for any embarrassing, unpredictable, nope-not-smart sh*t she has unknowingly caused, stepped in, or forced others to smell without permission.
All the voices of every generation form a choir
Holding hands in a circle round the foot of a mountain
And they’re a million miles high as they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless
Oh how they climb and they climb
Heeding their own battle cry
Uphill battles all their lives
See them fight see them fight
Oh some will live and some will die
As they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless
All the kind hearts of every generation beat as one
Holding hands in a circle as they stand round the ocean
And they’re a million miles high as they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless
Oh how they climb and they climb
Heeding their own battle cry
Uphill battles all their lives
See them fight see them fight
Oh some will live and some will die As they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless
All the tired feet of every generation step as one
Locking arms as they’re marching to a godforsaken drum
And they’re a million miles high as they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless
Oh how they climb and they climb
Heeding their own battle cry
Uphill battles all their lives
See them fight see them fight
Oh some will live and some will die
As they climb up to the sky
By some miracle they’re never getting breathless
Last night, the storm
like the migraine raged and shook
A tree hugged the house as the wind
fiercely asked the question of what happens
when we build our data centers and drop our bombs
when we forget we are connected and not separate
My migraine asked a similar question
what happens when the body is forsaken
what happens when the body is disconnected
what happens when you don’t listen to the cries of pain
before it’s too late.
