we slept through the longest night
van winkle-like
forty years or forty winks?
yesterday we were young
unweathered
unfettered
maybe it was long ago
i can’t tell anymore
would we do it again
knowing what we know now?
ask us again
in another
forty years.
can you feel rain on the lake
from afar?
i can.
every drop,
each plip drip
on the surface
a joyful kiss
a shiver
so fluid
tiny tributaries
form and form again
if water always seeks the
least resistant path
i am here
unprotesting,
welcoming,
rain,
i know how you feel.
if you were told
that starting
tomorrow you
would be
allowed
just
one word
what would
your word be?
mine would be
“peace” people! 
What word would be yours?
i wait
those four typed words hanging between us:
we need to talk
with trembling hands i key in your
number,
voice mail, my reward.
what cruelty has led us to this awful
place?
how much more can my sanity take?
i jump as a ringtone signals your call.
hello? i answer so softly that even i struggle to hear.
hey, you say, i wonder…
please, just end this agony! get it over with already!
well, i just wanted to know if i could have your recipe for lasagna.
oh, well sure. no problem. glad to help.
let’s talk again soon.
pain is now televised
pundits ponder the
circumstances
terrorist ties?
white male loner?
more gun regulations?
fewer gun restrictions?
does any of that matter anymore?
have we accepted this as the
usual business?
sometimes pain
overrides the well-worn
patterns,
overcomes the malaise.
i find curses slipping from my lips like wine from a carafe:
emboldened red,
dizzying,
potent.
but please,
don’t show me
i’m all pained out,
the story remains
the same.
they let me vote
even pick out my own clothes
i can also read
whatever, whenever i choose,
but they tell me
this body i inhabit isn’t mine
they try to tell me
i have no right to decide.
they let me think
but on some issues my thoughts
do not have weight
though mine’s the changed life.
one day they’ll find,
this powerful contigent of “theys,”
that wenches like me
don’t listen to theys like them.
Yes, I got all political today after reading that a lawmaker in Colorado blamed Planned Parenthood for the recent shooting that occurred at a clinic in that state. Instead, we should blame the domestic terrorist who broke numerous laws and took the lives of innocent people. We should blame the lies and anger-fueled rhetoric of far right conservative politicians whose pandering to the lowest common denominator among the Republican party lead people to believe that they have the right to break the law of the land.
Keep your hands off of my reproductive rights.
Peace, people.
where do we place faith?
in dreams or golden idols
in myth or magic?
fear and faith at odds
“if God be for us” they’ve said
then discard, hateful.
so call me naive
in choosing faith over fear
and love over hate.
I can’t be heartless
for life has given me much
and others little.
Peace, people!
who will speak for justice,
whose conscience won’t be calmed,
who feels the anger justified,
who leans upon the Psalms?
yea, though I walk
through the valley
of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil
for thou art with me.
whose spirit recognizes truth
whose words and deeds combine
whose life reflects the Word
who fears not, but loves sublime?
Like roly poly balls of dough
Both too stuffed to wiggle,
My spouse and I sat side by side
Our stomachs prone to jiggle.
Through one whole day we feasted,
Thanksgiving at its best,
Tom Turkey gave his life for us
Now L-Tryptophan bade us rest.
That amino acid played its card
And lured us into slumber
Listen and you’re sure to hear
My husband sawing lumber.
Peace, people!
i read the news this morning of a friend’s mother having a stroke,
and another’s father breaking a hip.
i heard of an adult child who fled
his responsibilites and left his
wife and children for a fling.
i thought about the pain we experienced
as young parents, worrying about our
infants’ developmental stages.
i recalled the nights spent agonizing
over my teenagers’ angst and woes,
their heartaches and heartbreaks.
i wept when reflecting on the loss
of my parents, both gone too soon
from my life; too young from theirs.
i realized there are no easy times,
nothing worthwhile comes without cost.
the joys of loving our only reward.
Recently a beloved uncle passed away after a long illness. When I shared the news on Facebook a friend who’d recently experienced a similar loss commented that we are at a tough age.
I knew what she meant. I’ve lost both of my parents, as have most of my closest friends. Several in my age group have experienced the traumatic loss of a spouse, and some the loss of a child.
We are the sandwich generation, those of us in our mid-to late 50’s. Some still have children at home while simultaneously caring for aging parents. I would almost say it is the most difficult time. But then I started thinking and the poem appeared.
There are no easy times. We might be fooled for a second by a lull in the action, but every stage has its pitfalls. The love is worth it, though. Just keep plugging.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 