
GIVE US AIR !

Vice-President Kamala Harris and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz
August flopped heavily
Sweatily
Vociferously
and fully aware of the pressure
building in the heated
air.
Little relief in scattered
rains that shattered
a populace already battered
by heated rhetoric
over the curtained waves of
air.
Two-thousand twenty-five
reasons to despair
the planned assault on our care
of one another and a planet
dumb-soaked without a care for
air.
August is hard to breathe in,
in and out, and in again;
cheering on Harris-Walz
awaiting the slightest breeze of
air.
I can breathe again.
We can breathe again.
The earth can breathe again.
Finally, we can move forward again.
In November we can vote in cooled
air.
WORDS AS FRIENDS

Treating words like friends
poetry does not create.
Words can ask that you wait.
Like friends.
Words can obfuscate.
Like friends.
Words can stimulate.
Like friends.
Words can love or hate mandate.
Like friends.
Words can fear understate.
Like friends.
Words can hunger sate.
Like friends.
Words can placate.
Like friends.
Words can ease your fate.
Like friends.
Words can simply be great.
Like friends.
Filed under POETRY
GARDEN LESSON

There is nothing like a drought
to teach what life is all about.
Waiting for the rain to fall
is not sufficient to survive.
Tender patience does not thrive.
Buds remain closed, tucked and hidden
deep among leaves’ folds
offering a pace to hide.
Roots buckle down deep
and down, down, down
to depths they seldom explore;
knowing once the rains do come
they may open up closed doors.
Eventually, rains come, and even pour.
Rains batter plants stressed and sore;
opening caches held within their core.
It is only after sun appears
that plants let go their fears.
And in that moment plants flower,
Their faith in Nature restored.
Filed under POETRY
WHERE HAVE THE BUTTERFLIES GONE?

Hydrangeas move as if on a breeze.
A breeze of bees moving flower to flower
across lime green, blue and pink.
Across ruby red and native plants
their flowers do a pretty dance.
On this hot, dry day I watch bees play.
But, where have the butterflies gone?
They did not appear this year.
The yard is awash in colorful blooms
In past years butterflies found plenty of room
to feast and sleep a moment or two.
Butterfly bushes and butterfly weeds,
native plants and other species
await their return in sad revery.
I ask everyone I know,
“have you seen a butterfly this year?”
The answer is always a baffled, “No.”
Where did all the butterflies go?
And, will they ever return ?
Who knows? Like lovers spurned,
they may have found another garden
to replace my own.
I can only hope so, as I mourn
a topsy-survey world grown too warm.

Filed under POETRY
GODDESSES AMONG US

I see now why the first deities were female.
Only a woman speaks to the soul of birth
and breathes new life into
every soul on this beloved earth.
Goddesses with distended wombs
weighted with hopefulness
are found in every ancient tomb.
Our future had seemed lost.
The entire world seemed doomed.
Death in every household loomed.
A globe on fire steeped in hateful rhetoric
gunned down every effort to escape
a despondent, hopeless fate.
Covid stole the innocence
of even those usually sitting on the fence.
No one was content to wait and see
what November wrought for democracy.
Moneyed oligarchs of greed stole hope
as well control over justice with abuse of power.
Federalist Society Judges delayed justice
hour after hour after hour after hour.
Even the Supreme Court undermined
the Constitution which is yours and mine;
not theirs, not wealthy donors, not those in power.
Then she, she, she, she, she, she, she
took the torch and raised it high.
Emma Lazarus’ female guards our harbor.
Kamala guards us in our darkest hour.
Her smile and laughter brings us
up from our knees, our prayers answered.
A goddess has arisen and made a fuss
of all the lies and hate-filled derision.
Her solemn promise made to us
that she will fight at our side.
She will tan the evil-doers hide
as mothers have always done,
chastising our sins one-by-one.
And so we rise with delighted surprise
to shout as one that we are not done,
and we are not going back where death resides.
We are going forward where life begins.
To a place where elections are open to all.
To a place where life is treasured not spent
on greed and control and all that is indecent.
We are headed to the polls to give our consent
to a mother goddess from heaven’s descent;
called by Joe’s prayers, who always seems to know
what we need and whom to follow.

WAKE UP THE YOUNG

The older I get
the harder it becomes to
carry heavy hearts.
Young hearts are heavy
these days of heatwaves, flooding
and fires of war.
My own heart has slowed,
unable to speed or race,
beating a steady pace.
The young run shouting,
fueled by alcohol and fun,
circling around me.
I try to tell them,
straighten your path toward the goal,
a race to be won.
I shout from the sidelines
loss of freedom is gaining
on you, as you play.
Age carries no weight.
My words tossed away as trash,
as victory fades fast.
Woke becomes useless
for the young who sleep too late.
Please, now, come awake!
PAVED ROADS

The road to success is paved with cash.
Numbers add up with each step.
Roads are blown to dust
when there is no money to keep them up.
Campaigns are long roads in America.
The longer the road, the higher the cost.
Those who run races along America’s roadways
are not so fleet-footed as they appear.
Their feet often slide on cash piled too high.
Their feet often slow on cash piled too low.
Whenever you wonder “why”, follow the money,
its ebb and flow, its surrogate paths
to hide those in the know.
Senators and Congressmen cannot always follow
the path of a lead runner when the cash is low.
They find new paths where money will cushion
a challenging and uphill election or re-election.
Still wondering “why?” And who decides?
Ask the right questions. Swallow your pride.
Then you will know. You are along for a ride.
POLITICAL PARTIES

Notes do not always ascend
in a crescendo of delight
They also bend low
beyond the heart’s swift beat
until we feel breath stop
fearing heart’s defeat.
Notes ebb and flow
in patterns we do not anticipate.
Yet the music goes on
in beauteous escapade
across unlit rooms,
across shady glens,
across sunlit fields
and parking lots awash
in un-natural lights aglow
above harsh surfaces of worry
where we park to listen.
Music soothes as often as it pushes
heart rates into overdrive.
We rise on dancing feet
or subside to slumberous ease.
One orchestra makes sense
of the notes unfolding
up and down,
racing and slowing
until the music transcends
the past and brings us up fast
to the climax at the end.
Two orchestras cannot play together
unless they play the same notes
at the same pace to the same place
in time and space.
Each must follow the same rules
and read the same music sheet.
Without such agreement
there is a cacophony of sound.
No matter how well one orchestra
plays by the rules, its uplifting
music becomes mere sound,
its rhythm unable to be discerned
by the racket from the second
orchestra who has turned
from reading the music sheet
and playing by the rules.
We cannot stand the dissonance
and turn the music off.
We mistakenly believe
both orchestras at fault.
It is time to call a halt
to the orchestra of whining instruments
which refuse to abide by music’s rules
and continue to play us false.
I yearn for the sweet sounds of truth.
November cannot come too soon.
TEAR DOWN THE WALLS
Let me tell you. Being a woman who is fully human is not a given. It is always a hard-won position. Too many dismiss women as not fully human. Women and their ideas are called “empty-headed.” Women are called “weak-willed.” Women are called “frail.” Men are are not thought to brainless or empty-headed. Men are not thought to lack willpower. Men are not expected to be weak. There are stronger and more respectful words for men. I am all for respecting men. I only ask for the same in return. I do not always get that respect. Even if I had remained in my hometown, married a “nice Italian-Catholic boy” which was my parents’ most fervent hope, I would not have been able to avoid such disrespect. But, I might have had a man to come to my defense. More likely, not. Men know how to avoid a fight. Their lives depend on reconciliation to bullies. Male aggression can be a fierce and unpredictable experience; especially, by men with gangs behind them.
Bullies come in all guises. They are not just “street toughs” with cigarette packs stored in the rolled-up sleeves of their tee shirts, tatooed sleeves exposed in warning messages as in my childhood neighborhood. Boys and girls both learned to give them a wide berth. Bullies also exist in board rooms, school rooms, and court rooms.
I did not stay and be a well-behaved little girl all my life. I became a lawyer. I entered courtrooms where early-on I was usually the only woman to make an appearance on a client’s behalf that day. Maya Wiley, spoke of her experience as a lawyer yesterday, in an appearance on MSNBC. Ms. Wiley carries two strikes against her. She is not only female; but, like former Prosecutor and Attorney General of California Kamala Harris, she is a woman of color. She is Black. She lives in a world where the unspoken message is, “If you are Black, step back.” This is the silent message in the brain of too many Americans. I am a white woman. Yet, I find some empathy in our positions as a female.
Ms. Wiley mentioned episodes in her practice of law as a federal district attorney which matched my own experience. The judge, despite her presence at the Justice department table ready to plead her case, pretended not to know she was an attorney. The judge dismissed her entire identity in that moment. He cut her. She bled. She still bleeds.
On several occasions early in my career I made an appearance on behalf of a client. I sat with other attorneys, all men, in the courtroom waiting for my case to be called. It was called and I approached the Bench. “Good morning, your Honor, I am Louise Annarino, an attorney with the Legal Aid Society. This is my client…the plaintiff in the case before you today.” Standard introduction. Not a standard response from the judge, however. Instead he said with a smirk toward my opposing counsel, a man, “Young lady, you cannot just waltz in here without a lawyer. Come back after you get one. Next!”
Holding back my anger at his attempt to shame and dismiss me…and my female client…from “his” courtroom, I answer, “ Your Honor, I am an attorney. I am representing this woman who is my client. Let me repeat for you that I am a lawyer from the Legal Aid Society.” He responded,
“And, I told you you must be a lawyer to represent this client.” By this time my client leaned in and whispered to me, “I thought you were a lawyer!” I could barely hear her over the laughter of the male attorneys seated behind me awaiting their cases to be called. The judge laughed with them. I did not. I said, “Perhaps you are not listening to me, or are hard of hearing. I shall give you the befit of the doubt.” I am a licensed attorney in the state of Ohio and I am not going anywhere.” He heard my case. My client had her successful day in court. We both bled that day.
I returned to the office and told my colleagues what had happened. A woman attorney said, “Oh my, I forgot to warn you, we women always carry our license with us and lay them on the bench before we start.” I took my license off the wall and put it into my briefcase. I wish I could say that was the only episode, but it was not. Not every judge, nor every attorney cut me. But, I still bled. I bleed writing this account. All women bleed. We have become experts at stanching the flow. Right now, you are thinking of jokes about our menses ever month. Stop it! Those bleeds bring new life into the world. We honor those bleeds. We do not honor the dishonor of men cutting us down to size where we can be ignored as not fully human, not fully equal; cut and bled.
Kamala Harris was interviewed my Mika Byrezezinski at a Know Your Value Conference in San Francisco describing what it was like to face barriers of discrimination and break down walls. She said, “‘When you break things, it is painful. You get cut, and you bleed, and it will be worth it — But be very clear. It will be and can be a very painful process.’ Kamala Harris knows this. Maya Wiley knows this. I know this. Every woman who breaks down barriers knows this. Women break down barriers every day…int their homes, at their businesses, in boardrooms, in school rooms; and yes, in courtrooms. They break down barriers in friendship relationships, in love relationships, in business relationships. We still do not have an ERA (Equal Rights Amendment). Why do men need barriers from women? We love them. We respect them. We honor them. It is time for them to do the same. And to those women, too afraid to break down such barriers, we get it. We know the position you are in. We bleed for you, too.
We say to all people, as Reagan said to Khrushev, “Tear down this wall” so that none of us need bleed ever again. Vote for Kamala Harris in November. We need each other. We need each other healthy, whole and safe.
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