Category: poetry

Free But Not Free

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetryLeave a comment

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                  Image courtesy of: Rúrí   ruri.is  Woman / Freedom

 

Freedom on my mind

Free but not Free

When my body is:

CONTROLLED

TRAP(PED)*

INVADED

by:

Religious “Freedom” Regulators

Bishops’ Bogus Bylaws

and

Junk Science Adjudicators

who:

Perpetuate and Perpetrate Propaganda

Perverting Pregnancy

Separating and Segregating

 Female from Fetus

When the Heart Beat is Felonious

Far from Notability and Viability

Free But Not Free

In Bondage to Strangers

Bearing False Witness to the Experience

and

The Acute Burden of Being Female**

Free But Not Free

When Doctors Cannot Speak

of

OPTIONS

and

CHOICES

and

CHANCES

to

Retain and Maintain

THE AUTONOMY OF MY BODY

                                                                          is

GAGGED

and

GUNNED DOWN

In the Name of

GOD

Free But Not Free

When I Cannot

OBTAIN CARE

that

PERTAINS

To

MY HEALTH

I Must

CONSENT

and

You Must

REFRAIN

MY BODY IS MY DOMAIN

 

*Refers to Trap laws regarding access to abortion (Targeted Regulation of Abortion Providers) which impose specific standards and other regulations that appear to be arbitrary, are difficult to implement and are aimed at closing abortion clinics.

** credit to Michelle Obama

I saw the film BirthRight: A War Story, yesterday afternoon. It was not what I thought it would be. I cannot accurately summarize the entire film, but it is at once a history lesson and personal stories about women’s health care in this country. It is streaming on HULU and you can subscribe to it on YouTube. Here is a link to the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7GgXygGLQM

Also: The current regime has imposed a Gag Rule on all clinics and other women’s health care services that receive Title X funding. In order to receive any federal grant money, they cannot provide any abortion services or even refer women to clinics that provide them. By law (since 1978), the federal government does not provide Medicaid funding to women who seek abortions and who also qualify for Medicaid. They can receive other health care, however. So if you go to any of these clinics for normal health care checkups or screenings, be aware of these changes. You are on your own for seeking advice on pregnancy termination services. Note also that this same rule was applied during Reagan’s presidency and rescinded under Clinton’s.  

Dancing With the Butterflies

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry2 Comments

                                      The butterfly garden: A work in progress

I watch in delight as the garden grows and blossoms

Colors of crimson, ochre, amethyst, and tangerine

rest in harmony with one another

Butterflies flutter and swoop

enjoying the variety of sweet nectar selections

 New plantings arrived to commemorate Earth Day

Mona Lavender and Verbena adding hearty and wispy tones to the corner’s growing vibrancy

  A milkweed, on its last legs, became a temporary home for a caterpillar whose demise was met swiftly by the cunning and patience of an unknown predator

My indigo delphinium gave up the ghost just yesterday

But the spaces quickly filled with a robust Penta  and mild-mannered Lantana

  I tend to it daily and fret over it like a mother of an infant

 This tiny space provides a respite from the rest of the world

A place of simple peace where my mother’s spirit reigns 

Day 30. The last. The days are growing hot quickly down here.  Besides running, the garden provides a reason to step outside. I’ll visit it at sunrise tomorrow.

Sacred

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                                                          Nancy’s sea glass

Holy pieces housed in an unadorned vessel

Faith’s fragments washed ashore on a Mayan peninsula

Divinely inspired

Gathered piece by piece

Every unearthing calling forth a living  prayer

 Ordained with a blessing

Offered in love

Binding all living things to one another in hope and healing

Day 29. For Nancy.

Capturing a Running Moment

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Image result for sunrise run

                                              Image courtesy of: Becoming Ultra

A long run at sunrise sounded promising

The forecast was for a record hot day

The dastardly humidity returning

Uninvited

April holds out as if a wall is erected

Attempting to deter the thick air

Sidewalks empty of  foot traffic

The road just beginning to buzz with four wheeled machines

The sprinklers performing their duty

in their usual quiet fashion

They hiss as I run past

My mind wanders

Planning the route as I go

Needing to run far enough so my legs don’t give out

The hidden side streets are a favorite detour

before the route to the beach

The boulevard is nearly empty

as I cross to the bridge that rises over the bayou

A woman driving her car eastbound

snaps a photo of the quiescent sky

I run to the nature park and to the path which surrounds me with mangroves

My feet sound different here

palpitating with the beat of my heart

I am unaware of where this path ends

while simultaneously mindful that this is the best I will feel in this moment

 I turn a corner

and I am full on with the salty brackishness

and the day’s rising

Simple in beauty

Conscious that this will be the highlight of my day

I turn to go

Heeding my pace

Aware of the many miles that lay before me

Day 28. Happy Friday!

The Road to Consecration

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry2 Comments

Image result for authentic self in art

                                      Image courtesy of: Jenny Grant

She turned to face him:

Which mask to wear today?

It was hard to gauge his mood with the thickness of sleep still bearing its weight on her body

Her mind is murky

  She lets out a sigh

Feeling safe only if she lay on her left side curled up and in her own embrace

Much better to fall off  than brush against the beast

How long could this charade last?

Lately she had matched his deceit with her own

Not out of some need to enact revenge

She wasn’t even sure how far he had gone

But he wore his lies like an ill-fitting suit

The pants dragged beneath his heels

The jacket was two sizes too small

And the buttons were askew behind his lengthy tie

When she would point out the mismatch between one tall tale and another,

he would insist that he was misheard or misunderstood

Keeping track of  his dirty deeds became a game of survival and self-protection

His self-involvement and vanity distracted him from noticing her wily ways

Still, she was weary of feeling undone

Every encounter exhausting

Every conversation calibrated

Today would be the day

Holding her breath

 She slipped out into the early light

Suitcases already packed in the trunk of her car

The papers and house keys lay on the kitchen table

  Woman!

We have lift off!

She exhaled and let out a silent cheer

She had no compass

Just her authentic self 

The only true guide to the road within

Day 27. The word is authentic drawn, from a conversation yesterday with Emily- although the subject matter was different. I hadn’t expected this as the outcome but certainly the theme of freedom is on my mind these days.

Her Story

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry3 Comments

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                                                Image courtesy of: Pintrest

Woman:

Refined and Revolutionary

We march

We speak

We look you in the eye

We frighten you with our wisdom

birthed in struggles and strife

Our stories belong to us and we belong to ourselves

Yet, you seek to define us:

Girl, Whore, Broad, Mistress, Wife, Femme Fatale

 Your connotations are infinite

as you seek to keep us finite

You seek to degrade us as you adjudicate us 

Your savage measures threaten our subsistence

  Good sirs:

You only fan the flames

We have no fear

Only a familiar female fury

 We will not wait

 We will storm the gates

 And rise once more:

 A phoenix from the ashes of your fires

Day 26. I had another word in mind today. Perhaps it will work tomorrow. This is it for today.

Transcending Old Suffering

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry3 Comments

Image result for a woman feeling small

Image courtesy of: Heart Sisters

Too dangerous to repeat those words which once made me feel small

They hung in the air

A hovering smog of demotions revealing your lack of devotion

Too dangerous to think how those utterances once pierced my heart

They slit and sliced

leaving a hole where love once lived

Too dangerous to feel how those remarks concussed my soul

where my very being was left battered and bruised

Then a moment when I thought I was so far removed

Where the hurt had been expelled and expunged

My attention became ensnared and captured

Energy stuck in an obscure bodily sphere

Tenuous and subtle but present

 I linger with it

I sense it moving through

There!

It sits behind my eyes

Insisting that I see

Pounding my head with implication and insinuation

Admonishing me to feel

I turn it over

Offer it up

 Relief arrives with admission and realization

that the Spirit

the Me that is Me

carries remnants

the residual remains

of Invisibility

Each movement of ancient energy

is a releasing

another renewal

and I am seeing myself as I never did before

Day 25.  Old stuff surfaced ever so briefly yesterday and gave me a gift. And now I am giving you one as well. For those of you moving past old hurts and sufferings at the hands and/or words of another. The journey through healing is worth the destination.

 

Unecessary Intrusions

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Image result for unnecessary intrusions in art

Image courtesy of: Deviant Art

Driving in the noir morning

On its way to daybreak

The boulevard overly lit with electronic signs

of car dealerships, fast food, pharmaceutical franchises

and strips clubs advertising

“Girls Girls  Girls!”

“Selectively Hiring Hot Chicks”

  Arriving at the appointed hour,

the office astounds me

with the sounds of “headline news”

blaring on a ubiquitous screen

feeding me shallow repetitive drama

delivered in flamboyant fashion

I step outside in desperation

to avoid the endless droning

The whoosh of commuter traffic is ironically soothing

I notice the morning is awake

Its cool breeze sloughing off the clinging sputter

that spews from the so called news

I seat myself on a nearby bench

and observe a trio of birds constructing a spindly nest

Their collection of building materials lies on the pavement

I watch and wait as the glare and blare slowly disappear

Day 24. An early morning medical appointment inspired this one!

Long-Lost Equinox

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Autumn Leaves

A rampage of  passionate pigments

A seasonal swan song

A long last life’s breath of viridian showings

before your shivering branches consent to a dance

in the November winds

Laying themselves bare

A brazen bold maple awaits its winter slumber

Watching while we rake the sepia remains

from the hills and green grass ways

beneath its outstretched arms

Autumn:

A lingering farewell to the year’s most scintillating suitor

An affaire de Coeur

Transitory and temporary and tempestuous

Till we meet again…

Day 23.  I am out of season, I know. I missed Fall in 2016 so a colleague who was making the trip up North came back with the leaves and rock captured in the image. Autumn in New England is something to behold. I took a photo because I knew the brilliance wouldn’t last long, much like a passionate love affair. I still have the leaves and rock:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At Home on Mother Earth

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn memoir, poetry4 Comments

 

            The Atlantic Ocean on the shores of Plum Island, MA in December

We stood at the shoreline on a cold early winter day

drinking in the brilliant blues of water and sky

Love was born here on a windy November afternoon

our hearts just beginning to open once again

Looking north, we reimagined the sandy altar

where our vows were taken

It was June

a day much the same in its splendor

The early summer air kissing us with its warmth

The feel of the earth under our bare feet fed our souls

Still, there is nothing like the weight and protection of boots that help carry us over boulders and root-ridden paths

Welch-Dickey looking west

We stop and put our hands in a snow melted stream

amazed at its crystal clear color

Its extravagant cold causes us to sigh in gratefulness

Love grows here on the bare bluffs and falling waters

Arethusa Falls

When we climb in April, we arrive in time for Spring’s rebirth

as we once again mark our own

Seasons change but our zeal for hiking never wanes

Summer flora at the bottom of Artist’s Bluff, Franconia Notch, NH

The mountains await us

Mount Lafayette, Franconia Notch, NH

 

 

Day 22. A poem to honor Earth Day and pay homage to the March for Science. We went to a nearby Arbor Festival and came away with 2 more plants for the butterfly garden and a bougainvillea tree.