Confronted with the confines of your hate-centered speech, I choke on disbelief, mind sputters, stalls, conversation moves on and all I can manage is an
Look at me – all authority and control – productivity overload until emotion, undisciplined, toddles in, waves her curls disrupts feed her sugar – a
I was your pink girl universe, but you, Two Spirit, asked me to look up, full faith, feel sky lift your language world big, I,
Words are leaves, poignantly bold when sprouted, destined to wither lose their hold – thank goodness our love is a trunk, solidly rooted, steadfast –
Sunday morning runners pass by bay window, oozing life, while I strain to catch a glimpse, movement tenuous – irony of life rendered surreal by
Years when children, perpetually in motion, required a referee – Mom’s energy replete so ephemeral now – time having vanished, weariness lingering, savouring memory blurs.