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Saturday, September 1, 2012

Trapped


I was so alone.  
My rubber boots held fast 
by the grassy mud puddle 
in the corner of the front yard.

Thick grey mud pressed 
in on my black rubber boots
protecting tiny socked feet
from cold wet mud.

Three year old muscles tried 
to move against the ancient cold and thick mud 
that grabbed my boot.

My bare foot wavered in the cold air.
The boot top snapped shut
trapping my sock inside.

I couldn’t put my freezing foot back in my boot!
There was no one around.
I was scared.
I was crying......

And then someone heard my wail, 
plucked me out of my pressing predicament,
and took me in to my mom, warmth and safety.
Thanks Ronnie!

“People are trapped in history
and history is trapped in them.”
~ James Arthur Baldwin

Friday, August 31, 2012

Unwelcome Voices

Voices in my head.
Voices that pass judgement 
on me and my actions.

Voices which criticize
their sting unmistakable -
attached to old memories.

Old tapes play 
like stuck records.
Are they 78's or 45's?

If a calmer, gentler voice should prevail
why do I 
ignore it,
minimize it,
push it aside?
Does that voice not 
deserve my attention,
have a solution?

A new thought strikes a trembling chord:
I have given all of my own thoughts 
names
dates
places
with space in my head.
No charge except to me.

I’ll send all the names back 
to their original memories
collecting their cards of judgment
for review.

I’ll see if I am telling myself the truth
by keeping these named cards, or
if I have tarnished memories 
because of one or two remote events.

“We do not remember days, we remember moments. The
richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.”
~ Cesare Pavese

Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Wall


The Wall seemed beautiful,
shining with the gloss of brushed steel.
No cracks, crevices or chinks obvious.
Beautiful and .... dangerous?
The wall silently demanded 
‘NO ENTRY!’
Asking: How can I help? 
the greatest intrusion.
With respect, I stepped down.


“Never take a person’s dignity; 
it is worth everything to them, 
and nothing to you.”
~ Frank Barron

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Who Stops the Cycle?


Who stops the cycle of violence?
Once the cycle has begun for one human being 
we can’t prevent them
from being caught in the trap of being violated?

And when is the cycle recognized?
When the violated and abused are grown
do they inherit
the behaviour of violence with
the stigma of being violent?

All while living with
the painful granite mountain
of the original violation?
Will it ever be recognized?
And if it is recognized
spoken about, who begins 
the climb
clears paths
shows the way
of descent down the mountain?

Who is responsible for
presenting possibilities?
If a key piece of the puzzle is suspected
what part of our system speaks up to say
this human being is worthy of our time?

Is there a place to see when the cycle starts?
Do we wait until it is almost fatal to 
see and do
support and empower?

What is the cycle?
Who is caught?
What does it look like?

My frustration: I can only do a small piece
and then turn the rest over to others...............

“I feel as if I were a piece in a game of chess, when my 
opponent says of it:  ‘That piece cannot be moved.’”
~ Søren Kierkegaard

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Friendship Trumps the Weather




Cold this evening,
no sun to warm sky or land.
Supper out with a friend
makes weather inconsequential

Grey, overcast skies.
Unremarkable rain spits down. 
Warm visit in a friendly restaurant
remarks little of the weather.







“Friends...they cherish one another’s hopes.
They are kind to one another’s dreams.”
~ Henry David Thoreau

Monday, August 27, 2012

My Ducks are Out of Order!


I didn’t make my bed today.
I didn't do the dishes.
Laundry waited to be put away
Lunches yet to be made.

This all despite steadily developed
disciplined home habits
backed up by steady routine

My home is
well ordered and
fairly clean

But I didn’t make my bed today.

“There is a certain combination of 
anarchy and discipline in the way I work.”
       ~ Robert de Niro

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Loose Ends ~ 1


Loose ends of my life at home
lying at my feet
stuffed in my pockets
filed away in drawers and cupboards.

Loose ends of friendships stored
in special cupboards 
of mind and heart
picked up & woven into conversation 
no gap in time or event.

Loose ends of my own words 
written in story and poem over years
incomplete
immature
requiring coherency
return to my vision.

Finding loose ends takes time.
Are they all knotted and tangled?
Stuffed and bundled in electronic file folders
titles long and unwieldy 
sentences awkwardly constructed
paragraphs out of order
abundantly worded drafts and redrafts

Loose ends drape themselves,
untidy bits that await
reconnection
revision.

“It always seems impossible, until it’s done.”
Nelson Mandela