TIME

A single moment
is all. And time is only
a way to forget.

TIME

A single moment
is all. And time is only
a way to forget.

Filed under POETRY

After the cheeping rattle of ice chips beat against the window
and replaced the quiet drift of falling snowflakes
silence descended and coated the ground.
Now there is no sound,
as if Earth, herself, is holding her breath.
The freeze is so profound that even the tires on cars
silently whirl round and around and around,
trying to grip as the cars slide and slip,
like ideas trying not to collide,
unable to take purchase of a single thought;
awakened from silent dreams fraught
with swallowed screams and naught
to do with this newly frozen world.
New snowflakes, smaller and tighter now twirl
hidden by silent vows made on quiet streets
to freeze out life and cover the Other,
refusing to see them as sister and brother.
The only remarks that life remains for sure
are three breaths controlled and held in check:
the warmth of hot air blown from furnace grates,
the kettle of water heated to steep tea,
and the certainty that I am still me.
Breathe in and breathe out, and never doubt
that frozen days come silently to give us time
to redesign and renew Earth,
and a new birth
of a new humanity.
Warming brings the thaw of words hidden
by the freeze of words now bidden
to silence by those who fear trust hidden by design.
I find the hidden poetry in this silent freeze.
I make those hidden words mine.
I wake with you and your warm spirit to shout
across the deep freeze all about.
Sound carries farther on cold air.
So shout and sing and show you care
in this heavily silent deep freeze.
Never let silence shout you out.
Filed under POETRY

Your fear weighs heavily in my arms.
I can only carry you so long
before muscles lock and pain sets in
and you drop, leaden as a casket,
one your fear places us in.
Together we stand on soil loosened
by the heavy weight of two.
Do you not know each one of us
must carry his own cross to Golgotha?
Do you not know your own strength,
hard won with all you have been through?
Or did I so lessen your load by carrying you
that your legs are now too weak to move on
to a solid, firmer ground.
I let you go now. I set you free.
Be on your way, without me.
Carry on.
Carry on.
Filed under POETRY

It snowed again during the shortening night;
A staggering and mighty sight
to those who yearn for Spring sun.
I, among them, am one.
The daffodils, though, delight
standing as tall and as resolute as they might
to bear the weight of our expectation,
cheering us on heartily in exultation
that winter’s quiet and tight hold on us all
yet allows the cheerful to stand tall,
and welcome with unabashed delight
another snowfall during the night.
And, somehow, the world, again, seems right.
Filed under POETRY

The rich are the retaining wells of culture they believe.
They wear their wealth and status on their sleeves
or on their pockets front or back, across their chest,
or from their shoulder purses hanging slack.
Declaring status for all to see.
If there were no caste system there would be
no racism.
If there were no racism there would be
no climate change nor earth destruction.
For where would we put the poison men create?
Not near the wealthy classes’s gate.
They neither see nor suffer unsafe states.
Where do we bury their wealth-earned waste?
Not in Esher. Nor in St. Germain-des-Pres.
Not in Tribeca. Nor in Oud Zuid.
Not in Medina. Nor in Atherton.
Not in Port Royal. Nor in Kensington.
Not in Assiniboine Park. Nor in Port Royal.
Not in Patterson Hill. Nor in The Peak.
Not in any of the places only the rich speak
with cultured voice and true concern
for what the world has now become
with each season’s unusual turn.
These richest places to live on this earth
are retaining ponds which only confuse
the deadline for earth’s destruction
which we all face.
And those who have been cast aside.
who carry bottles governments provide,
or heavy jugs of polluted water
about the countryside,
from deadened rivers
and from polluted, toxic wells
live where the poorest live, unwelcome
to live among the swells.
They live where the poorest dwell,
said to be the lower class,
and are placed among the lowest caste,
selected by race, color or birthplace.
we have no time to waste.
The retaining ponds must survive
to protect and pursue untainted water and skies,
to use their wealth to break down barriers,
to deconstruct the racist muck
they have placed us all in.
Clean air and water should be there for all.
If not, even the mighty and wealthy will fall
as earth reclaims what once was hers
an untainted world free of all humanity
and it poisonous thoughts and actions.
No racism, no caste sytem.
This I long to see.
If only earth can survive you and me.
Retaining wells we all be.

In the darkness are points of light
jewels strung across the sky
by unseen hands of strength and might,
or an unknown someone’s
imagination taking flight.
I stand in awe, feeling smaller somehow.
I become more minute by the minute,
a small measure of who and what I am
or what I could impossibly become.
I watch Venus and Jupiter
hanging in the western sky,
nearing closer each night and wonder why.
My tiny self on tiny earth joins them
in silent and solemn trajectory
around our sun, in blazing mystery.
I stand and wonder at the beauty naked to my eye,
joined by history with ancient watchers such as I.
Each night I watch planets appear
to grow closer and embrace
in the dark expanse of space.
And suddenly,
I want to fly!
Filed under POETRY

It is easy to become disillusioned
with institutions which we know,
and which have gotten us this far,
when we see the mess we are in.
So, what do we do? Organize anew?
And create institutions to do
what we have always done.
Does anyone believe our churches,
companies, and governments
were created out of hate?
Our newly formed groups are not new.
It is always the same.
Each tries to do its best, the best it can do.
The first rule of any group or institution,
like the first rule of each individual,
is to survive, and hopefully thrive.
Membership dues, costs and fees
keep each institution alive.
And money corrupts with greed
to be more, have more, do more.
It seems to be a human need.
As usual, we see the angry diatribe renewed
against religions and governments
for what they have failed to do.
I ask, what do you do?
How many soup kitchens do you run?
How many hospitals have you built?
How many roads do you maintain?
How many times have you failed
to do your best, and ignore the rest
of us? We are only human.
Should our institutions be better?
If so, then so must we be.
Love is not a verb, but an action word.
Love helps us feel the way to act
better than we ever knew we could.
Love erases the word “should”
with the act which rebuilds
institutions of which we can once again be proud.
Tearing down is much easier, I know,
than rehabilitating the world
wherever we are, wherever we go.
Find your hammer, whatever it is.
Mine is words on a page.
Grab some nails and form a crew.
The whole world is depending
on me, and, on you.
Let us rebuild, not tear down
what worked so well before
it became what we chose to ignore,
and let rot
under the weight of heavy storms.
Filed under POETRY

HAIKU
Inert seed unearthed,
breathing air unfiltered now
by soil, can’t grow.

LESSONS LEARNED
You have to eat a pint of dirt before you die.
Eating dirt creates immunity.
Now, tell me why
we disinfect what is written or aired.
Tell me why we only care
for news that entertains
yet fails to create community.
Do we deliberately divide the seed
until nothing worth digesting can grow
in gardens allowed to stay fallow
to feed the greed of those who make money
on fields laid to waste covered in words
sweeter than honey?
The last few minutes of every news show
tells a story to touch the heart.
To make certain we continue to believe
the world is better than we think,
despite what was said only moments before.
Can we not take facts straight any more?
Do we need others to tell us what
we are seeing; then tell us not to believe the sight?
Because, everything will simply be alright.
Dirty though the world may be
it is our right to make it what we will
by planting our own seeds
in the fields of our own minds
where it can then grow solid and whole.
The worms move the truth through dirt
enabled by microscopic insects
up the roots and into stems
until blossoms see the light of day.
Just, give us the dirt, and be on your way.
Filed under POETRY
WOMAN’S WORK
My work life started with equality of effort and pay. Five year old brotherAngelo told me I could not help if I could not keep up. I kept up. We shared pulling our wagon through the alley near our house, rummaging through trash to pull our newspapers, cans, bottles and magazines. He pulled as I pushed the loaded wagon onto the scale at the junkyard across the street and down another alley. We checked each other’s math as Mr. Schonberger paid us pennies according to the weight of our load. We each received the same amount.
Angelo was able to secure a job as paperboy for the Newark Advocate. I tried but was told girls could not be paperboys. My brother allowed me to help him, as I always had, offering to split the pay with me. He hated going door-to-door to collect subscription fees. I was pretty successful at it. After awhile he became bored and started allowing me to deliver the paper as well. I was thrilled to finally be a papergirl, full stop! Except, Angelo retained his half of the salary on the premise I could earn nothing on my own so I still came out ahead. From that day on, I angrily experienced pay inequity. It takes many forms, is institutionalized and challenges to it are always risky. One can end up jobless, very easily. My own brother taught me those lessons when I was 8 years old.
After graduate school I became a Resident Counselor at a co-ed high rise residence hall at the University of Cincinnati. I soon discovered that I was paid less than the other three RCs assigned to our building. The other woman was entitled to her salary since she was considered the Head RC. But, the two men had fewer degrees than I and had less experience. Since we were a state university those were clearly defined bases for assessing wages. In my case those considerations were ignored. The second year in this position saw the Head counselor leave on maternity leave, one of the men transferred to the Athletic Dept. and the other man took a position as Head RC. These positional shifts left me to do the job 4 persons had been doing, with no increase in pay. I left after that year to attend law school, determined to learn what I needed to make the world a more just and fair place for everyone.
I will not go into the racism and sexism In law school, nor in my workplaces over the years. That discussion is for another day. Today is about pay equity. My first legal job was at The Legal Aid Society of Columbus. Pay equity was not an issue in this job. However, the salary there meant I was barely able to repay my school loans. I could not buy a car, could barley pay rent, and was unable to help out my parents or save any money for emergencies. I later secured a position at Ohio University where I could use both my legal training and experience, and my Student Affairs training and experience. I was confident the pay schedules would afford some protection.
I was wrong. After studying the issue of my pay versus the scale I realized had been placed three grades lower than the man who had preceeded me, who also had fewer degrees and less experience. He also did not have all the duties I had, and carried a much smaller case load as well. After a year-long study measuring my position against the pay scale at my university, the pay for similar position at other state schools in Ohio and state schools nationally I concluded I was grossly underpaid. Instead of filing a pay equity claim based on discrimination, I filed for a review of my position to bring it into compliance with the pay scale. I knew if I claimed sexual discrimination I would not have my contract renewed. I loved my job. I loved the work I did. I did not want to lose the position.
I never mentioned sex discrimination in my research report, my application for review, or any cover letters. I tread lightly. The wrangling went on for nearly 2 years while I patiently, if stressfully, sought pay equity. Finally, the Provost asked to speak to me. Such a meeting should have been unnecessary since the pay scale criteria were set and I met the criteria for a move up three grades and across the grade significantly. I had been underpaid from day one, but could only claim an amount due from the date of application for review, losing thousands of dollars in unmet equity. I was willing to forego those losses in order to retain my position. But, wanted fair and equal pay recognized and offered.
The first 5 minutes of the conversation with the Provost explained why he was meeting with me as he started to discuss sexual discrimination. I stopped him, reminding him I had not made my claim one for sexual discrimination which would have created a terrible image for the university, which I had pledged to serve. The university would be harmed if such a claim were made by its own legal counsel. He was caught off guard and stumbled in his speech. What do you want? I want what I have claimed. That started a negotiation. I did not get the back pay I asked for from day one’s misplacement on the scale. I did get the upgrade and back salary of two yers from the date I filed a job review request based on updated information. It was clear I would need to file suit to get full equity. I could not sue the institution I loved and hoped to continue working for. It was a bittersweet victory of sorts.
What I experienced at the university was not new to me, as such inequities existed in nearly every job I have held. Nor are such experiences limited to me. Every woman faces such discrimination. It is baked in to systems and those who create and manage them. It will not easily be removed. It impossible to attain equity but the costs are often too high for mere mortals to bear. A Vice-President for the university called me in soon after I was granted proper pay for my work. He told me the conversation we were about to have never happened should I repeat it to anyone. I will only say that he told me he had never seen such discrimination against any woman, and he had seen a lot in his career in private and public sector, as he saw in my case. He advised I remove myself from the position as the discrimination would not stop until I had been destroyed. He offered me a position under his area. It is hard to trust any man who starts the conversation, “This conversation never happened.” I did not acccept the position he offered.
I wonder, sometimes, if I could have avoided chronic fatigue syndrome which left me bedridden for a year, unable to speak or walk…or even sit-up or crawl. I relearned language. Learned to walk with a walker, then with a cane. I asked to do what many men had done following strokes or heart attacks, be in the office in the morning and work from home in the afternoon, I reasoned my hearings were usually scheduled in the morning. I could schedule meetings then as well; and, write briefs, make phone calls and do legal research in the afternoons. I was told I was not to return to work unless I could be in the office full-time. No man had ever been told this. I was in position to know. And this, from a boss who never came in to the office before 11 then left for a three hour lunch.
Women are marching across the globe for pay equity. I walk with them in spirit. I add my voice to theirs. This is the only way my health allows me to do so. Listen to those women. Hear their pleas. Help them. And do it “on the record”; not as if this conversation never happened.
Leave a comment
Filed under COMMENTARY
Tagged as discrimination, instituions, men, pay equity, women