What does a Wild Woman do
when the news continues to astound,
humans committing atrocities
on other humans, bombs dropping
all around,
all manner of suffering and trouble,
all around,
all manner of suffering and trouble,
women and children starving
in the rubble?
We need a Kindness Revolution, she sighs,
pouring a second glass of wine,
because one doesn't do it any more.
(She knows that is a very
slippery slope. Don't worry.
She is wise.)
She is wise.)
She turns off the news.
She would like to write a poem
that inspires hope, lifts hearts.
But she is so freaking tired.
She is old.
She is old.
She has lived several ages,
truth be told,
but never one so toxic
and so cold.
truth be told,
but never one so toxic
and so cold.
It's the opposite of
a Kindness Revolution.
a Kindness Revolution.
But she has always
Lived In Hope,
so that stubborn flame is
flickering still.
Wild Woman believes
in evolution/revolution;
always will.
(Give peace a chance.
War is over
if you want it.
Let's keep singing it
Until.)
Wild Woman believes
in evolution/revolution;
always will.
(Give peace a chance.
War is over
if you want it.
Let's keep singing it
Until.)
What we have is today:
brilliant November sunshine,
wild waves and Stellar jays,
hope and grief all mixed together,
because this is where we're at:
inclement weather.
inclement weather.
Wild Woman is grateful:
for another generation rising -
(May they be brave!) - for dogs
with wagging tails and smiling eyes.
For Mother Earth, with her trees,
and clouds, her ever-changing skies,
struggling so valiantly to survive,
on which we're blessed
to still be here,
still dreaming,
still dreaming,
still alive!
In all the discord,
what does a Wild Woman do?
She prays, she hopes, she dreams.
Sometimes she cries.
She writes poems of peace
and struggles to be wise,
stretches her rubber soul
to hold both hope and sorrow,
goes to bed and
goes to bed and
prays for a Revolution
of Human Consciousness
on the morrow.
"We need a Kindness Revolution."...No one can say this like you Sherry, with such faith and love. Prayers come true.
ReplyDeleteSherry, I like the idea of a kindness revolution. I like the words from the last stanza:
ReplyDelete"She prays, she hopes, she dreams.
Sometimes she cries.
She writes poems of peace
and struggles to be wise"
May those poems of peace inspire others!
A kindness revolution is just what we need – and about time, Sherry. I would love to turn off the news, but my husband is addicted to it. I write poems instead. I love the beautiful flash of nature in these lines:
ReplyDelete‘brilliant November sunshine,
wild waves and Stellar jays,
hope and grief all mixed together,
because this is where we're at’
and
‘Wild Woman is grateful:
for another generation rising -
(May they be brave!) - for dogs
with wagging tails and smiling eyes.
For Mother Earth, with her trees,
and clouds, her ever-changing skies’.
Oh Sherry! Yes, Yes, Yes on so many lines... and the general feeling of whoa - what the f- happened and ooh nothing much that we can do other than poem. Yet, a kindness revolution is a wonderful thought and it can begin with us being kind to ourselves and to each other. This site is a place where such connections are possible and respite found.
ReplyDeleteGreat stuff Sherry. I completely agree with you. A revolution in consciousness if what's needed now. Suzanne - Wayfaring blog on Wordpress
ReplyDeleteYes to both, absolutely: a kindness revolution (how wonderful would that be) and a second glass of wine (or a third)!!!
ReplyDeleteOMG! This is brilliant writing! It is my new favorite of all your poems. So vulnerable: "She turns off the news.
ReplyDeleteShe would like to write a poem
that inspires hope, lifts hearts.
But she is so freaking tired.
She is old.
She has lived several ages,
truth be told,
but never one so toxic
and so cold."
Kindness is the warmth that is missing. So we grieve, and cling to the things of joy. O, Sherry! Publish this poem! At least record it! I'd love to hear it in your voice.
A kindness revolution? Wouldn't that be something. I feel old too, it's the times: so toxic and cold. Wonder what my folks would've thought.
ReplyDeleteSherry - I appreciate "hearing" your voice. Keep the poems coming.
ReplyDelete