I’m Just a Buttercup


OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI don’t want to be a buttercup today,

A tenacious, yellow flower.

I’d rather disconnect the runners of my roots

And curl them up beneath me.

“Leave them be!” I want to shout to the rabbits

Who’ve come to nibble on my leaves

“Come back tomorrow.” to the sun

That opens up my petals,

Preferring to sleep for many hours.

But I am a little yellow buttercup,

As if I have a choice.

My runnered roots help hold the soil in place

Rabbits get sustenance from my lacy leaves

The sun’s warmth opens my yellow petals

Adding beauty to the meadow.

I know I’m just a buttercup.

But, do I have to be one, today?

 

 

Wake-Up Call


sleepy-kittyShe sits with infinite patience

Knowing that timing makes all the difference.

Slowly she blinks with the passage of the hour.

Settled  in to wait, she dozes.

soothed by the rhythmic rise and fall of breathing.

Now, the moment has come.

She stands, and stretches

then begins to lick his nostrils.

His eyes snap open

followed by the alarm clock’s clamor.

She goes to await her breakfast

Knowing he will follow.

Solitude And Silence


2006-03-04-20-55-26I seek the elusive

In the cacophony of life.

A time of silence, solitude

A brief escape from the noise

And weight of the day to day

I know they are out there,

Sometimes apart, often together

Usually ignored or forgotten

Because action, clamor

Get favored attention.

Sometimes I catch them unaware

So I snatch them quick,

Before they escape,

Knowing that solitude coupled with silence

Is rare and exquisite.

Then I bask in the quiet,

Resting, healing, blissfully alone

As I shore up my defenses.

Too soon they’ll slip away again,

My grip too tenuous to keep them.

Dysphoria by wysewomon


I didn’t plan to write this post on National Coming Out Day. I didn’t plan to write it at all. But I have thoughts, and you know where that leads me. After I published the post “U…

Source: Dysphoria

Until Then, I will Sit


stadium-seatsI did it. I sat through the presentation of colors, the invocation and the national anthem at a local high school game. I sat, because I love the country I live in. As much as I love it, I am bothered by so much of what I see. I am also bothered by what I see as a near compulsory demand for an adherence to ritual while failing to truly understand, that for many Americans, such rituals ring hollow. It is for them, after much contemplation that I sat.

I sat for the people of Flint, for whom profit mattered more than safe drinking water, for the residents Standing Rock for similar reasons. I sat for those serving long term sentences for minor drug charges while those who commit violent crimes go free. The injustice, often along color lines is an ongoing injustice. Even worse, profit comes into play, when we as a people care more about the bottom line more than our neighbors, I find silent and complacent is something I cannot be. So for those who suffer at the hands of corporate interests,  I sat.

I sat for the victims of war…the men and women sent to fight for ideology and control of resources than ignored and abandoned when they got home, damaged, broken, hurting. For all the rhetoric about support for our troops, I find there is less substance than we are led to believe. We spend so much for the tools of war, yet the most important ones, the people we send into harms way, our nation invests so little. We’ve been in some kind of conflict for so long, that a time of true peace, is an unknown.

We send our sons and daughters, expecting them to set everything aside, celebrating what we believe is their patriotic duty to be cogs in the mechanics of war, and we rarely question why.. I am reminded of  Walt Whitman’s Drum Taps. The poem talks about the festive celebratory air that often occurs when we prepare for war. There is a line that says: 

The tearful parting—the mother kisses her son—the son kisses his mother;  
(Loth is the mother to part—yet not a word does she speak to detain him;)

Whitman proved to be quite prophetic in the lines of his poem as we prepared to invade Iraq and Afghanistan. How many mothers and sons never got to tell each other hello again since?  It is for this poignant reasons, that I hate the dark arts of war. We celebrate war through our patriotic rituals, yet rarely stop to count the cost. It is because I feel that the price is too high, that I sat.

I sat for every homeless child, every person working three jobs to make enough to feed their families, for everyone who is a victim of violence, for every person who has been subjected to the hatred of bigotry and racism, and every person who must decide which to pay, rent or medical bills. I sat for every person who came here for a chance for their future and for that of their children, fearful that they will be denied it for lack of a piece of paper. I sat for those denied that chance to even try to come here because they are from the “wrong country” or of the the “right religious persuasion. 

I, a white, middle aged grandmother, made a simple patriotic choice and went against the crowd.  I am of the mind that we can truly be a country that understands what freedom means, that it is a responsibility, an honor, a purpose, and that we are only free when all of us can be equally so. Until then I will sit.

From Those We Give Power 


“Hear our words.” Cry those we’ve given power.

“Hear our message divinely evoked.

We’re the ones you picked to lead forward.

Listen closely, heed the wisdom we speak.”

 

“Heed not.” The empowered sternly warn us.

“Those who dare question the gospel we preach.

Dismiss with all malice, any message that differs

or actions that would cause you to think.”

 

“Stand against” Warn the despots who lead us.

“Quell against all we’re against.

We’re the ones who’s words always matter

Especially when they are speaking the truth.”

 

“Enemy!” Is the clarion call.

When compassionate dissension

suggests peaceful solutions

and threatens to shatter control, tightly held.

 

“Attack and destroy.” The leaders command.

“Any who would stand in our way.

We’re in control, don’t ever forget that

Now go, and do what we say.”

 

“It’s your fault.” Wail the once august leaders.

“Look at the destruction you wrought.

You failed us, and left us bereft.

Take the blame, as you justly deserve.

 

Silence from those we gave power

Gone, those we foolishly ignored

We are left to pick up the pieces

Of a world we nearly destroyed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wait…What?


My eyes fly through words.

Speed reading dyslexia

Makes reading more fun.