Eternity is
a slippery slope upon
which to place one’s hope.
Tag Archives: courage
LIVE FOR TODAY
Filed under POETRY
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
I envy those still able to place words on a page.
I hesitate at what I might say to display my rage.
Silence is its own subtle, harmful, deadening cage.
I refuse to become like you – a killer
of all that is good, all that is free, all that is true.
I refuse to become like you – a silent witness
of all that is evil, all who are held in bondage,
all of the lies which rely upon you.
I refuse to become like you – a sycophant
in silent praise of racist, sexist, xenophobic chant
by tiny minds, fattened by greed, with tiny hands
grasping for the sacred trust, and pedophilic lust
most hide from civil and moral view.
I refuse to become you – a lost boy
in Never-Never Land, fearful and confused,
afraid to grow up, preferring to fly high
above those you believe inferior
so that you can feel superior.
I know who you are; and so, do you.
I refuse to become you; and so, extend a hand
to help you settle down upon a branch of freedom.
It is weakened; it is true.
But still strong enough
with love enough
to hold us…together.
PURE OF HEART
On this Holy Day
no obligation takes part
in the love and respect I feel for you,
dearest Mary, Queen of Hearts.
No need for men to declare
you are woman beyond compare.
Nor need to justify your place
with convoluted tales of grace.
You bore the heavy pregnancy gait
and the seemingly endless 9 months wait,
a grueling trek by foot and donkey
away from safety and into mystery.
You sheltered in the meanest space
and kept up with Joseph’s heartier pace
as women are so often wont to do
for men and children in need of you.
You entertained guests who came to view
the wonder of Light renewed by you.
When you likely most needed rest
you gave your all to all your guests.
And then you fled as Joseph’s dream
must have made you want to scream.
All to keep your loved ones safe and sound.
Your strength and love are so profound.
And still you give to all of us here now
your grace and love and keep your vow
made through Angel Gabriel in ages past;
a promise that to this day still lasts.
“Behold,I am the handmaiden of the Lord;
Let it be done to me according to your word.”
Such a pure heart needs no more explanation.
The Light always carried within you is our salvation.
A feast day for an Immaculate Conception
sounds like a useful mansplain deception.
I overlook my useless eye-rolling emotion
and give you, dear Mary, my full devotion.
Filed under POETRY
MY FIRST AND ONLY CONFESSION
Confession is good for the soul.
I have been told.
My first confession
at the age of seven
Took Sister Mary Claude,
whose diligence I applaud,
months to abate my fear.
First in line, I strode near
the confessional where Fr. Torre
waited to hear blood and gore
from little ones whose blame-game
only recently became a cause of shame.
With whispering words I began to confess.
“Father, forgive me.”( I felt such stress.)
“This is my first confession.”
Father stopped me right there
as I sat on the edge of the chair.
He was behind the screen,
a solemn, still figure barely seen.
“Please speak up so I can hear.”
And, so I did, and started to enumerate
all my sins, expecting him to strongly berate.
His words caused me even greater fear,
“Louise, not so loud, or all will hear.”
No longer did I worry who heard what.
He knew me, when I had been taught,
confession is anonymous.
Now, I felt infamous.
How could I face him across my Mother’s table
when he came each week that he was able
to eat her suga and Italian food;
and feel like family, with buoyant mood.
My only sin that day
was what I confessed every single Saturday,
“I disobeyed my Mother 10 times a day,
every day, of every week, of every year.
I was a disobedient child who shed no tears.
And over these many years
I have never changed my insolent creed
My father told me as I stood at his knee,
“Every man puts his pants on one leg at a time.
No one is better than you; (I liked that line)
and you are no better than anyone else.”
Equality set my soul free, made my heart pulse.
Equality became the base of all courage.
Equality kept me from being discouraged.
As a woman in a man’s world and profession.
I learned to speak up and out loud in my first confession.
Filed under FAMILY STORIES, POETRY
LEAD WITH THE HEART
Lead with the heart
and the mind will follow
a path of peace and hope,
strong enough to carry
dreams and generosity
for all those you meet.
No matter how difficult
the journey it will not be taken
alone, silently, fearfully.
The heart knows best what matters.
The heart knows the best path.
The heart unites us joyfully.
The heart beats life determinedly.
The heart overcomes strife.
Lead with the heart and do your part
to create a world worth living.
Some paths are famous and large.
Some paths are unrecognized and small.
Every path matters to those
who walk it and make it their own.
Every path converges as we move
into the great unknown.
Filed under POETRY
THE AGE OF PRETEND
We find it charming, not alarming,
when children pretend.
The young boy child,
towel tied beneath his chin
and spread across small shoulders
waves an imaginary sword high
and suddenly feels bolder;
his power felt from head to toe,
ready to defeat any foe.
The young girl child,
Her American Girl doll in tow,
and dressed for the next chapter
she reads in her book which will show
how she can claim her place
in a world within her safe space.
It is a world of their own.
Children too often feel alone.
Childhood play is a godsend
when the acceptance of fear
is boldly met by playing pretend.
It does not stop at adulthood
when we need for ourselves to fend
and parents’ efforts subside
as children claim adult pride.
Adults, too, need a reprieve
from threats vaguely perceived.
The woman alone in her bed
seeking a strong chest
upon which to lay her head,
clutches her pillow instead
to lessen her dread.
She seeks a strong arm
to lessen her alarm.
The man alone on his couch,
in front of the TV, leaps from a crouch
and shouts with untamed glee
when the quarterback throws free
and the opponent is defeated,
the pass completed.
The victory becomes his own.
At every age we pretend
to overcome what we fear,
what we do not feel strong enough to overcome,
what we imagine might cause unknown harm,
what we cannot imagine we can handle alone.
We are never, really, fully grown.
We fear we shall always be denied
the connected love our hearts need most.
We pretend the pride which allows us to hide.
What if, we stopped pretending?
What if we reached out for community?
What if we sought requited love in unity?
We live in an age of pretend.
When and where will it end?
Filed under POETRY
MY FELLOW AMERICANS
MY FELLOW AMERICANS
I hold my tongue.
It takes strength I do not have.
Whimpers escape
On shattered breaths,
In silent screams.
The fight worries my soul,
Battle weary and choking,
On words held tight inside.
Once the scream begins
I doubt I could stop.
I wait for your speech.
I yearn for your promise
To stop the authoritarian
Who has taken over our house,
Emptied its vaults,
Stolen its wealth,
Sold its power
To the highest bidders.
So, I write. That I can do
While I wait for you.
To me, this nothing new.
Do you believe me now?
NO KINGS DAY
The day begins with signs
Of all that any patriot finds
In need of expression
To resist oppression.
We line the streets
Feet deep
Only to meet
Aggression
From those who seek
Our suppression.
Gerrymandered districts
Are incomplete,
Unable to meet
Fair representation,
Denying the nation
one person one vote,
Intimidation afloat
In every state.
We pray it is not too late.
We pray our efforts matter.
We pray our mad-as-hatter
Administration
Stops destroying our beloved nation.
We sing. We dance. We shout.
This is what democracy is about.
No kings today.
No kings in any way.
No kings over courts’ justice.
No kings over any of us.
Every king eventually falls.
We do not want a king at all.
DREAM OF MY SELF
In dreams we are known
in ways we can’t know ourselves.
Keep dreaming, my soul.
Filed under POETRY
annarino writes 