Soon Enough

[image from istockphoto.com]

Soon enough
you will notice 
the sharpened fangs
in that conman's smile.
You try not to feel their bite,
until the traces of blood 
form puddles on the floor
that become impossible
to ignore.

Your spirit shrivels
at the cage
in which it finds itself
entrapped-
that same cage
you so willingly 
- or willlessly? -
entered.

Its door is standing open,
but in your panic
you cannot think of
how to flee.
You think he is
the one at fault,
until someone 
points out
that you are the one 
allowing it 
to happen.

Younger Sister,
listen to Wild Woman,
and listen well:

If "Love"
is hurting you,
disrespecting you,
manipulating you,
abusing you -
it isn't Love. 

Retreat,
as swiftly as you can.
Wait for a love
that is kind.

It will come your way,
soon enough.

Kids, today, at Real Toads,  Marian has given us the prompt: Soon Enough, inspired the song of that name by the talented Aimee Mann. There is a cool clip on the Toads site of Aimee singing that song. The video reminded me of someone I once knew who had deadly fangs, hidden in his con-man smile. Do click over to Toads and check out the other links. There will be some great reading material from this prompt, I can tell.

Wild Woman is a bit under the weather these days. I am trying to keep up with as much commenting as I can. Please forgive me at being considerably behind. The spirit is willing - but what I need is a RECLINING computer chair, hee hee. (I know, a laptop - but I am used to banging hard on a keyboard, so laptops do not cooperate with me.)

Sad Eyes

Is there anything

sadder

in the world,

than the eyes

of a

circus bear?

At Poetry Jam this week, the prompt is: Under the Big Top. 

Shades of Grey

My beautiful mother

Ella has set us the prompt Shades of Grey today at Poets United's Wonder Wednesday. She takes the title from the book of that name which is apparently all the buzz, and which I hadn't heard about until today. My first thoughts of grey were about hair. I don't - and won't ever - dye mine. I wear my strange mix of reddish grayish white proudly, it actually is a neat color, evolving from the red hair of my younger years. I earned every silver streak. 

My aversion to dyed hair and makeup  is the polar opposite of my mom. She dyed her hair all her life, until it became a pouffy white straw cloud. She always used  pancake makeup and bright lipstick. The granddaughters thought her way cool and glamorous, and she was. She turned heads still in her seventies. I go au naturel and it works for me. If any heads turn, it is in disbelief, hee hee!

In her old age, my mother remembered,
with relish,
walking into a dance hall, age sixteen, 
her long blonde hair hanging down her back,
and how my dad jumped over the piano
and off the stage to beetle across the floor 
to meet her.

That was it.
"The only man I ever loved,"
she'd say,
for the rest of her life.

When my step-father's hair 
turned a lovely silver,
she decided to dye it black,
so he'd look younger.
Towel around his shoulders,
he'd sit, black rivulets 
running down his face,
patiently enduring the indignity.
The dye didn't "take" very well,
so there were always black stains
on the pillows.
And when it rained, the dye
would start seeping down his face
and onto his overcoat,
drawing puzzled glances 
from the other bus passengers.

"You've got to suffer to be beautiful,"
my mother always said.
She was beautiful,
all her life,
and, yes, she suffered.

Earth Grief

image from natures-blessings.org

"Mother Earth feels your pain.
Let her feel your joy, too."
quote by my friend, Valerie Langer,
environmental activist

When you watch, 
on your tv screen,
Long Island and New Jersey
being swept away,
when earthquakes 
rumble off the west coast,
hurricanes sweep 
the eastern seaboard,
and tsunami warning alarms
echo throughout your town
at midnight,

when you pass logging trucks
hour upon hour
carrying away all the trees
we need to breathe,
and they tell us  
the ice and the tundra 
at the North Pole
is melting,

when you put together 
all the information
and come up with a reality
too frightening for words,

go ahead.
Feel the fear,
feel the terrible grief
that is guilt-based 
at our human assault
on the planet,
our greed,
our ignoring of the needs 
of future generations,
(our children and 
our children's children).

Feel your frustration 
at the multinationals'
Bottom Line,
which dictates 
all the rest,
and of world leaders 
who talk and talk
about the need 
to address global warming,
yet who never legislate 
the tough changes,
because re-election 
matters most.

As you watch the icebergs 
crash into the sea,
the polar bears drowning 
and starving,
the displaced bears 
and hungry wolves
being shot because 
they came too near 
to look for food
for their babies,
as you watch the sea 
climb up over the banks 
and drown the towns,
as you feel Mother Nature's 
terrible dis-ease,
and hear the gray whale's
mournful song,

remember that Mother Earth 
is thanking you
for having the strength
to carry your grief.
Know that you are doing 
a service to mankind,
by helping to inform 
the global consciousness,
by being aware and able to
see clearly what most 
cannot bear 
to understand.

Remember, too, that 
no matter our fears,
we are, at this moment,
living on a planet 
full of beauty, 
mystery, creativity,
and wonder.
Be grateful for this gift.

Feel the joy of Now,
with all of its potential 
for transformation,
for grassroots Change.
Enjoy the daily panorama 
of visual beauty:
geese flying overhead
across a  cerulean canvas,
sun glinting off a metal-hued sea,
babies' Buddha-smiles,
and our beautiful old round 
Grandmother Moon.

Let the beat of your pulse
join the rhythm of the earth's
own heartbeat,
knowing we are part of, 
and intricately connected to,
all of creation. 

Our pain joins the pain of
all of the sea of humanity.
Just so, our joy
carries us forth into tomorrow
on a tide of hope we can never
afford to relinquish.

Be grateful for being alive 
at this time of transition.
We were sent here because
we are strong enough 
to bear it,
strong enough to ride
the tidal wave
that will one day wash 
this planet clean
and allow it to, 
perhaps,
begin again.

Rather bleak, kids, and we must hold onto hope, recognize the grief but also embody the joy of being alive, right now, on Planet Earth. I told my friend Chris about my grief over the recent events along the eastern seaboard, and she asked her friend Susan for some guidance in what to say to me. This poem was born out of both of those conversations, and embodies the positive message Susan sent to me through Chris. It definitely helped me to feel a little less helpless. To know that by loving the earth, we are doing something to help her.

The Standing People, Before They Fall

I wake early. 
Mist is rising off the lake.
Rain taps lightly along my branches,
and down,
hitting  mushroom and salal,
fiddlehead and fern,
as we gratefully drink
after long, dry summer's heat.

The earth is shaking.
I tremble.
The big-wheeled trucks move in.
Doors slam.
Men yell and laugh,
then head off,
each in his own direction.

There it is! The screaming roar
of the big saws,
the ominous rumbling
of the grapple-yarders,
the sudden crack! as my sisters fall,
roots pointing towards heaven,
beseeching
an end to the slaughter,
sap running like blood
down into the ground.

I dig my roots deep 
into Mother Earth.

I will hold on tight
for as long as I can.
But, no! Here he comes,
a Two-Legged,
with his fearsome saw.

* First Nations often refer to the trees as Standing People, in their stories and legends.

Hannah has given us one of her wonderful challenges, for Transforming Fridays at Real Toads: 
to write from a nonhuman point of view, as a denizen of the temperate forest. I chose the temperate rainforest, since it surrounds me:) 

I love these geographic challenges, as we get to explore other realities.
So enlightening. 

Do pop over and explore some of the links. Hannah's challenges always produce some interesting writing.

Wild Woman's Heart

google image

The morning sun lights up the world 
with burnished gold.
It sparkles off the fresh snow
along the mountaintops.

The warm sunlight meets 
the cold night-frozen fields
and a mist floats across the pastures.
Low-lying clouds swirl across 
the middle of the hills,
almost close enough to touch.
Trees  poke their heads 
above the haze,
and a translucent shine 
layers the world
in brilliance.

Over the fence, a deer raises her head 
and assesses me.

"Hello, little deer. Are you enjoying 
the grass this morning?"

She considers this question, 
bends her head to nibble.

"Would you like an apple for a little snack?"

I carefully open the barn door, 
reach in for an apple,
slowly approach the fence.
She stands, waiting, unafraid.

I slowly toss the apple a little to her left, 
where it bobbles along the ground.
She takes a few steps forward, sniffing.

She has not darted away! 
She is accepting the gift!
It is today's miracle.

Wild Woman's heart does a little
hop, skip and jump,
then flies right out of her chest.
It is catching a ride
on a low-lying
puffy, perfect cloud.

Joy!

Joy in the Morning

Kids, here's a little joy for you this morning! 

This will lift your heart and 

make you glad to be a human!

Promise!