Connections, like bridges
run between us,
no matter how subtle,
nations and individuals
there is no divide
Imagine if we acted
in this knowledge –
mindful and kind –
not so subtle the outcome
I should think.
(Imagine Bridges first appeared here Sept, 2019. Image my own)
Rainbows and wishes
wings we give daughters
Little girl dreams destined
to hit walls – shortsighted
these laws of oppression –
for sweetness of youth
does not equate with folly
Women are warriors,
our rage underestimated.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
The Great Blue heron declares me an annoyance
to which the Blue Jays rasp accordance –
I know I am akin to predator
but I come here with need
to this bug-infested
weed-ridden
riverbed
To be
Torn
as I am
by an undefinable
rustle, an inner bleed
that craves patterns, or signs
naturally occurring rhythms to define
my place within this current worldly disorder
(Image my own)
We climbed so high
this mountain of man
made obstacles –
I remember the rage,
no more than 9 –
how helpless it felt
a girl in a man’s world
but I climbed anyway,
we climbed anyway
and, instead of a hand up
we get this? Patriarchy
be damned! Your days are
numbered. Mark my words.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter. Image mine)
Yesterday I had to tell a young woman that the charity who were offering free flights out of Poland has discontinued the program. She shared that the countries around the Ukraine have also withdrawing help.
What could I say?
Many of us have stopped watching the news as the devastation is overwhelming. Television outlets now minimize reporting.
History repeats itself because humanity lacks the stamina to for the long haul. As many as 15 million Ukrainians will be displaced because of this war joining the 100 million displaced due to other world conflict.
I don’t have the answer to this dilemma; I’m just stating what I observe. Our collective priorities do not offer solutions. We fear losing our own status quo.
Understood. Turn away, but please, stay informed.
(Image mine)
I’ve decided, he said, to spend
more time doing what I want to do
I feel the load close in around me,
already burdened by his “me” time.
I’ve learned, she said, to look out
for number one; will not be available
Nice, I think, that you have such luxury
while I tend to the children, chase after
my mother’s needs, hold down the fort.
Take time for yourself – interesting counsel
when responsibility is so ingrained, and
self-care comes across as selfish.
Have so long ago erased personal interests,
will have to shop around to find what it is
that would allow me to abandon obligations.
Every child bears the spark
of eternity’s promise…
Where’s the threat in that?
What mechanism of hate
equates slaughter
of innocents with justice?
This is society’s bane –
the unconscionable policies
of greed lacking accountability
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
We knew the children were lost
so why wait for the tsunami
before beginning reparation?
And are irenic efforts with the realm
of probability now that the layers
of denial have been swept away?
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. This one for the victims of Residential Schools. Image my own.)
Is the writing on the wall so cryptic?
Graphic images depict rage
flames of dissonance
young men bleeding at their own hands
compassion incapacitated.
A sad awakening
for a society fixated
on rights and privileges,
dominating culture
excluding the nurture
of humanity,
or preservation of life.
How can we continue
to closet our children’s pain –
their vitality oozing –
hopelessly abandoned
by morality’s shelter?
It is the wall,
not the spatters
of blood upon it,
which needs amending –
adolescent minds too tender
to wade through
the cryptic priorities –
messages divided.
(Cryptic first appeared here May 2018. Edited here. Image my own.)
If there ever has been a test
to measure the worth of mankind,
this is it: Fate’s arrow points
to the crises amongst us:
human sanctity at risk
Why then have so many flipped
the question: answered hatefully
when love is the only response?
(Image my own. This poem originally appeared on Twitter @Vjknutson.)
One Woman's Quest 