It's difficult to believe I even have a purpose,
millions of people milling about on this planet,
hungry, dying, hurting, fighting,
all more desperate than I will ever be.
How can I believe I should even have a voice?
I am not one of the beaten down, not really.

Still, I am driven to help, I want to help you.
I want you to be the best version of yourself
and I want you to believe you are better than
what the world says you are.  

I've been poor my whole life. I used to want fame, maybe money,
when I was young. I wanted to be an actress. I was good too.
I had a lot of pain to draw from, but not as much as you.  

I've never wanted money enough to commit a crime to get it.
I don't really understand that mindset.
I've always known there was a better way, and there is.

I want you to believe people are on your side.
I want you to see people on your side.
What is your American Dream?

If I look behind me as an old woman,
silvered and tired, plump and forgotten
honored and pitied, floating on the ice,

The days were long at times, youth spent angry
at the injustice that was stability unrecognizable by my
troubled adolescent mind.

Praise this moment I sit within, the air warms my arms,
my belly full, coffee hot, praise this moment, yes.

When I look back as an old woman I hope to find all the days
I savored each day left with my son, listening to his whispers through a closed bedroom door, waiting for a glimpse as he passes from room to room.

As an old woman will there finally be no more injustice? Will people know it is all about their own hard work? Make the world for your self, especially now. We all gotta eat, and ain't no one can take THAT  away.

looking back now, I missed all the chances, running forward.

It's a predictable cycle
Peaceful Nature.
The hum of the streams
layered by the whistle and the **** call.
Sunning spring green grasses
dew soaking the new season's blade.
A croak interrupts the morning,
calling us out to the field.
Only we hold our position, listening in anticipation.
Nature excites us as though the unexpected will appear momentarily,
only it's the regularity that surprises.
Our nervous system is poised for action,
until we realize the day is relaxing, breathing deeply,
Sat in prayer and obedience.

It's a predictable cycle
Peaceful Nature.
The hum of the streams
layered by the whistle and the **** call.
Sunning spring green grasses
dew soaking the new season's blade.
A croak interrupts the morning,
calling us out to the field.
Only we hold our position, listening in anticipation.
Nature excites us as though the unexpected will appear momentarily,
only it's the regularity that surprises.
Our nervous system is poised for action,
until we realize the day is relaxing, breathing deeply,
sat in prayer and obedience.

It's a predictable cycle
Peaceful Nature.
The hum of the streams
layered by the whistle and the **** call.
Sunning spring green grasses
dew soaking their new season's blade.
A croak interrupts the morning,
calling us out to the field.
Only we hold our position listening in anticipation.
Nature excites us as though the unexpected will appear momentarily,
Only it's the regularity that surprises.
Our nervous system is poised for action,
until we realize the day is relaxing, breathing deeply,
Sat in prayer and obedience.

plain days, plain
grey sidewalk, *****
springtime tree buds
cold rain falling.

old lady wet hair,
brown paper bag,
fresh zucchini sliced in rounds,
climbing up the stairs.

I find myself stranded, dangling, isolated, unrepresented.
I am a woman, though I won't march this January.

I believe in equality amongst all nations, races, genders
although I have no argument for the lack thereof.

The outrage of vibrant young ethnic men and women
is not mine to share, my white skin paints me guilty.

I am poor, have been my whole life.
I am not mad about it, had I worked harder, read more, wrote more, even cared more, I might have enjoyed the spoils.

I realize there is a stratosphere where dazzling ebony dancers,
stained with dye, decorated in braids, colored like Amazonian royalty
move their minds through a dreamspace whispering the laws of tomorrow.

I do not have an access pass to this heaven.
I can not feel it,
hear it,
find it.
I see it, I  stumble upon it from time to time, only to watch it
envious.