Weary In My Soul

Frank Gunn,

Canadian Press

We are the Baby Boomers,
the generation we thought
would change the world.

We're seventy, now,
and oh, how the world
has changed.

And now it feels like
it is changing back:
racism, divisiveness,
rattling of the sabres of war,
muzzling the press,
registration of The Others.
(Of course, we understand:
there is no "other."
The Other is Intolerance.
It's us.)

Once more, we're marching in the street.
But this time our solidarity
is even stronger, and has
no divisions of age, race or religion.

As dark forces try to wrest the planet
from its people,
our spirits, weary though they are
from this long struggle,
rise in resistance,
our mantra:
Love trumps hate.


Last night in Quebec, a terror attack on praying Muslims, by gunmen likely incited or given license by the recent focus on this community by the highest office on the continent, and the resulting furor in the media. My old heart grows weary, friends, at all this hatred, injustice, singling out of peaceful people who simply want what all people want: to live, to love their families, to be safe, allowed to live their lives in peace.

But I am heartened by people rising in response, protesting, marching, insisting this is not the America (Canada and US) we believe in.

Elizabeth May, our Green Party Member of Parliament, said it best, in Parliament this morning: "Today, we are all Muslims."

This morning crowds protesting the trump ban on Muslim travel have shut down the US Consulate in Toronto, in solidarity with the Muslim community. I have never witnessed a worse ten days of political mayhem. May it end soon, somehow. Enough is already too much. Good luck to us all.

Two Lives

Baby days with Lukey and Jasmine

Ms Jasmine in the leaves

Getting two tumbling puppies to sit for this shot 

was a feat

Swimmies - their happiest times

Neither would let go of the Kong!

An ongoing competition

Jasmine suspects Lukey is getting

something to eat - no fair!

2015, in better health

Resting her head on her gigantic moose,

that she loved so much she wore its ears

and antlers and arms off. 

She was buried with it beside her, yesterday,

alongside her brother's grave, here on the farm.

This gives me comfort.

Sister and brother, towards the end,

always smiling, always beautiful

Love-dogs

Two tumbling puppies

wrapped tentacles

around our hearts.

They breathed happiness.

They knew only love.

They came into the world together

and left it one month apart.

Two golden butterballs

with loving eyes

and gentle hearts,

they say dogs come

to teach us how to love and,

as they leave,

they teach us

about loss.

Our hearts break,

yet we know

the years of joy 

they brought us

are worth

the price we pay

in tears and pain.

They leave us grateful

for the gift

of two tumbling puppies

who wrapped tentacles

around our hearts.

for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United

An update: My neighbour is one whom animal spirits visit. She called to tell me that after Jas was buried, she had a visit, from both Lukey and Jasmine, who were young and healthy again, and playing. She had a message to me from Jas, thanking me for setting her free from the pain and saying we will see each other again. Many tears, but a comforting message.

To Live In Harmony With All of Life Again

source

The women of the world are on the march.
We have had enough of  the patriarchal norm.
Under the lash, we bent, but then we arched.
Metamorphosis is needed. We must transform.

We have had enough of the patriarchal norm.
Millions of sisters' spirits are on the rise.
Metamorphosis is needed. We must transform,
to the shining vision bright before our eyes.

Millions of sisters' spirits are on the rise.
We're steering earth's essential evolution
to the shining vision bright before our eyes.
We're dreaming of a women's revolution.

We are steering earth's essential evolution.
Power and greed has Mother Earth in pain.
We're dreaming of a women's revolution,
to live in harmony with all of life again.

Power and greed has Mother Earth in pain.
Under the lash, we bent, but then we arched.
To live in harmony with all of life again,
the women of the world are on the march.


for Sumana's Midweek Motif prompt at Poets United: Change, and shared with the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

WOMEN'S VOICES

Tara Rose's photo

The thing is, Mr. t :
your rhetoric is offensive
and divisive.
You are delusional,
live in a golden bubble
of your own making.

Your efforts to convince us
what is not true is true,
and what is true is a lie,
won't work.
Just you saying something
doesn't make it real.

You can deny climate change,
but the poles are still melting.
When you are standing
up to your knees in water,
will that be a conspiracy too?
Maybe the penguins
have it in for you?

Your labeling everyone
who doesn't buy your lies a liar
does not endear you to the masses.

The thing is:
this world isn't safe for our children.
We need social justice, world-wide,
and we need it now.
A handful of billionaires
will not save the world.
They'll just get richer.

Did you hear the voices
of the women of the world?

That's where it's at, kiddo.
We can't believe we are still
having to fight for this shit.
But fight we will.
We have a world full of children
that we love.
We care about the planet
we are leaving them.
We love Mother Earth,
she is in trouble,
and enough is enough.

We have come a long way
from the 50's, kiddo,
so buckle up.
You are in for a bumpy ride.

We're going to make
your hair
stand on end.


LOL. Can't help it, I got so pumped up from yesterday's marches, from all the gutsy women's voices. I would have liked to hear more about climate change, but those people were out there, they just didn't hit the media. If any of you missed Ashley Judd reciting a kick-ass poem written by 19 year old Nina Donovan  from Tennessee, you must hear it. Talk about strong women's voices!

Here's the link: http://www.rawstory.com/2017/01/our-pssies-aint-for-grabbing-watch-ashley-judds-blistering-attack-on-trump-at-washington-march/

 I also loved Gloria Steinem's speech. She is so real.

This is for Brendan's  prompt at Real Toads: Voices

THIS POEM IS A WILD WOMAN

This wonderful picture of Wild Woman

was created for me by Ellen Wilson of Ella's Edge

This poem is a wild woman,
knocking down invisible inner walls,
the better to observe the sky of mind.
This poem is agitated,
the inner wild a climate of unrest
when too far away from the untamed places.
Attuned to the call of the Raven,
the howl of the wolf,
this town full of monster trucks and logging rigs
assaults her senses, she feeling
as alien as a cougar
inexplicably materializing
on a sidewalk in the middle
of this grey little industry town.

Where is her soul’s home?
Deep, deep, in the wild places
where only the creatures live.
Sorceress of the midnight moon,
follower of the shaman’s path,
she drums a primal beat
that speaks “Home! Home!”
with a stick carved from her breastbone,
chants incantations to earth, air, water, fire,
prays her spirit guides will lead her well,
back to the ocean’s roar and the forest’s
sacred, hidden trails.

While waiting, Wild Woman
makes her escape in a poem:
sings to the trees, communes
with restless spirits, ululates with owls,
flies up and away over the mountain pass
every morning, every eventide,
to where the wild things are,
always and forever, forever and always,
a lover of rainforest and ocean-song,
she knows where she belongs.

Confined, her spirit finds no rest
away from her soul’s home.
Wild Woman restlessly circles and turns,
within the inner landscape,
like a too-large dog circling a too-small bed,
trying to make what does not fit, fit,
too tight the wrappings that keep her
from flying free,
for she has always been a seeker,
now hoping to find, one last time,

what has for so long been sought.

This was written in May 2016, and has not been seen by many eyeballs. I happened upon it today, and it reminded me that when one hangs onto a dream with determination, it can come true. In my lifetime, not just once, but twice. I am blessed. 

Shared with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where there is always good reading on a Sunday morning. See you there!

"Just For We"

source

Traveler
is walking across
a barren landscape
out of an apocalyptic dream.
Jagged stumps stand, charred,
against a colourless sky,
and black ravens shriek,
watching her with red eyes and sharp beaks.

There is no kindness here,
no hope.

The clan of overlords is on the horizon,
reptilian eyes peering,
scaly skin gleaming
silver in the unsetting sun.

"We are coming for you."

"But this is supposed to be
the land of the free."

"Not for you.
Just for we."


A nightmare that appears to be becoming a reality with every passing day.

"We Have Been Here Before"

Ohio State Senator Nina Turner

Susan's prompt at Midweek Motif is Unity. Ohio State Senator Nina Turner's stirring speech at the civil rights rally in Washington is a perfect example of a rallying cry for unity. She is an inspiring orator. I hope she moves up to higher office.

It just might be that the most divisive president-elect of all time  has galvanized the nation, and everyone is more united than ever. I hope so.  If we continue speaking truth to power, and marching together, surely we can turn this ship around.

Unity,

not a word

to be spoken lightly.

More, a hand held out,

feet marching alongside other feet,
smiles exchanged,
solidarity,
common cause,

hearts that believe

in the rightness of brotherhood

and sisterhood,
social justice and

a better life for all.

Unity.

Usually not experienced in the ivory

or gold-plated towers
of Me-and-Mine.

But very familiar to the marginalized,

the disenfranchised,

the struggling,
the stressed middle class,

the working poor,
who share the little they have
in the connection
of a similar lived experience.

When the American dream
turns into a nightmare,
let us listen to the visionaries,
who will help us
to dream
(and march toward)
a new and better dream.