Discharge the gun –
protection a vessel
through which our depths
are undefined…adrift
Fear is a burrower
wears a false crown
births loss
trusts danger
Hearts beg,
amid this trigger-readiness
for a guardian – unafraid
to court this meaningless
Futility unchecked –
to study productive options
unimaginable in the current
state of chaos on repeat.
(Art my own)
So much I want to say,
yet the oppression of opposition
stomps heavily on my airways
cutting off the flow
Daughter of a trans father
mother contemplating MAiD –
embroiled in controversy,
I see only injustice
Cannot fathom the hatred
the railing against books
and glamour, and science,
misappropriation of christianity
How am I supposed to grieve;
take up arms for those I love,
when I am silenced before I speak
judgments cast without a thought?
If I could have a word,
if anyone would listen
I would share, perhaps insight
into the lives of secrets held
Describe how hearts wilt
beneath cruelty of suppression
how torn apart we become
ignorance voiding authenticity
I would tell you of the horrors
that dwelt within our homes
the fear of discovery, of rejection
how ugly it all felt….until
Education offered explanation
and in that opening
we saw potential to climb out
from our shadowy existence
embrace a life in which our love
is neither tainted nor deviant
and tell me please, as I try to listen
how such hopefulness is sin, after all.
(Image my own)
60s were a catalyst for change
opulence of psychedelics
Twiggy and Mary Quant
Beatles and Rolling Stones
make love not war – sit-ins
and flower power…
Who remembers when?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own. RIP Mary Quant.)
Look at us building fences
pretending we have differences
Do we not hunger the same
hunt in the same places?
Do we not strive with equal intent
build our nests with the same ferocity?
Forgo passion for survival?
Let us stop pretending
Let down these walls
admit to our vulnerabilities
align our purposes, and
fight a more fearsome foe.
(Fences first appeared here in March, 2018. Image my own)
No big box here
our shops line up
in historic rows
Our fragance
eau-de-ferme
earthen fresh
Our spires reminders
that values are simple
and life blessed.
(Photo mine)
How the young sparkle
dreams of Santa’s arrival –
I drink of their cup
borrow the giddy whimsy –
Joy a welcome contagion.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Texas Winter donned a chill
windy days and rainy nights –
funny how I’d forgotten that
I remember coastal waters
the sheer joy of cranes in flight
or Roseated spoonbills feasting
The warm thrill of tortilla soup
and the satisfaction of enchiladas
spices still lingering in my mind
A scrap of Texas memorialized
an endearing image blotting out
the internal, newsworthy, storms.
(Image my own)
Ignore the dead
the ocean of grief
capsizing humanity
Keep bailing on reality
conspiracy lacks an oar
we drown without compassion
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Girls are lucky:
just need to find the right man –
looked after for life.
Advice from a teenaged brother.
Right! I yell back,
fifty years later.
It was all a vacation –
raising the children on my own
looking for God in the midst of chaos
partners with wandering eyes
or absent…always absent…
still waiting for that “looking after”
And how did you make out, Dear Brother?
Oh, that’s right…married…
woman with a good job
willing to let you putter in the background
Guess we were both misled.
(No Idea! first appeared here November 2020. Image my own.)
The stare isn’t vacant;
it’s absorbed; attentive –
the being on high alert
I’ve seen cats like this before
crossed the road to avoid
their supernatural curse
But this creature is different,
dares me to make a move…
Why do I feel I’ve already lost?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter. Image mine.)
One Woman's Quest 