Captive

I cry for him, he does not know,

Though, while my tears flow, I worry

And curse myself for not being fit enough

 

At teaching him those things he should know

Better than to do

When away from home,

How to stay true to himself

 

When all others try

to encourage him to do or die

and mischief-make,

or get high.

 

Why is it that others help take

Away that innocence with which we’re born,

And throw us to the wolves?

-we’re torn asunder-

And it’s up to our mothers to mourn

 

Our loss,

So much more than just our physical state.

Those lines we cross

Are simply the bait used to capture

 

And enslave the soul.

 

*Youngest kid is having a couple of very bad weeks at school and I am reminded of some things I did at the same age which resulted in my mom and stepdad using a very extreme form of punishment (but very inventive at the time) to correct my behavior. They took me to the police station near our home and left me sitting in the car with my mom while she discussed why what I did was wrong. My stepdad went inside the building and when he came out he “confirmed” that they did take 7 year-olds to kids’ jail. What did I do that required such an extreme measure? I took some Kool-Aid and candy from the grocery store without paying. Mind you, my mom caught me before we even got out of the store and I had to apologize to both the store manager, whom my mom called over, and to the register clerk. Let’s just say I learned my lesson. But between Tornado’s behavior lately and remembering my own at his age it got me to thinking about how many kids don’t have someone who cares enough for them to help them. And so, their mother’s mourn their loss, both the innocence and the soul that had so much potential.

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We Should Be Free

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It’s not about you,

It’s not about me,

It’s not about who you think I should be.

Because it’s about you

And it’s about me,

It’s all about how we should be free.

 

Because it’s about her

And it’s about him,

It’s about being happy with the color you’re living in.

It’s not about hate,

It’s not about sin,

It’s about being able to love the one you’re with.

 

And it’s about standing

Up for what’s right,

Raising your voice to join in the fight

To be who you are

To see past judgmental eyes

And love the broken and bruised and comfort their cries.

 

Because it’s about me

And it’s about them,

The children ripped away in Bethlehem.

And it’s about you

And it’s about walls,

What will you do when the angel calls?

 

Because it’s about you

And it’s about me,

It’s about all of us and who we’re meant to be.

Because it’s about hope

And learning to hear

The rhythm between the beats and the voices shouting: “We’re here!”

 

For we will not be quiet,

We will not be kept down.

We are rising up, and we are standing our ground.

For we are not afraid,

We are all one family,

And this is how it’s meant to be…

We are free!

 

*inspired by Zac Efron in The Greatest Showman interview & current events (LGBTQ+, racism, children taken away from parents at the borders and lost-read as sold into child sex trafficking, and anyone who dares to challenge society’s “norms”)

Oasis

She lived her life dessicated,

An arid desert in the heat of summer…

Dusty sand that scours raw the skin

And the few crumbling brown plants,

dead for lack of moisture.

 

Then came the storms

With drops that hissed and sizzled,

And drowned the parched land

Bringing life to the xeriscape,

And hope bloomed in profusion.

 

*First new poem of 2018

Learning To Dance

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Holding back,

watching them, watching us

fighting to try, to see beyond the pain,

marking the line in between

waiting for the first to make a move

we begin only to stop for the rain.

 

Then they come, demons on the wind,

and we crouch with shields above

as the dead on cold ground are lain.

Thunder roars and we meet them,

blood pounding in our veins,

and so we begin learning how to dance

in the rain.

 

Voices ignored as men drown out,

their Lilliputian minds closed to the sun

we defend them, too,

though cases reversed we’d hang,

but we still have to try to hold back the flood

until our dying breaths say “we’re done”.

 

For freedom means more than miniscule men,

and someday they’ll realize we did this for them,

with nothing more than liberty our gain

we tried to teach them how to dance in the rain.

The Awakening

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Standing her ground above the seas

She feels a change in the breeze.

Still, she stands defiant and forthright,

Hope’s beacon burning bright.

 

And she says:

“Beware the storm you’ve brought to life,

Even the cold can cut like a knife.

Beware those you now forsake.

Now, the lions will wake.

 

Never forget the imprisoned lightning I hold.

I raise my torch, proud and bold.

And still I cry “Send them to me!

I accept all, and their diversity.”

 

Even you, who proudly proclaim

That hate with which you’ve won your fame.

Even you live here in the land of the free,

You, and all the new bourgeoisie.

 

But now the tempest has been unleashed.

Now, you’ve let loose the beast.

Now comes the killing snake.

Now the lions are awake.

 

In Revolution’s fire you will burn,

And those, who you now spurn,

Will find that Justice will shine

And eradicate those orders asinine.

 

Soon, your power will be taken,

Now that the lions have awakened.

Retribution comes like a burning itch.

Karma is such a bitch.

 

And here I’ll stand, tall and sure,

A woman whose like you’ve never seen before.

So, beware my wrath, my teeming shore,

For lions guard Freedom’s door.”

 

*inspired by Katy Perry’s new song Chained to the Rhythm