My Voice (Yodelay-ee-oo)

My voice.
(Mine.)
Whispers in my ear
expresses through my fingers
wants, by the bend of my knee.
(Mine.)
My voice.
Pushes with its elbow
in the small of my back
when it thinks I’m not listening
(Mine.)
[..Yes.
I am yours
You are me
and mine...]
(MINE.)
My voice.
Struggles to KNOW
strains to feel
hopes, above all
(Mine.)
My voice.
Mine.

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Cities of Noise

Comments, likes, and dislikes,
opinions and petitions and condemnations…
New York City is quieter than the internet.
I walk past the scenes,
and I look mostly at the museums and the
planetariums, try to find the gardens of thought
like the quiet places in the middle of town
to step out of the noise ~
The hidden grotto,
The doorway of an old forgotten church,
A playground at a school closed down for the summer.
Sometimes I pray for rain,
something to make the multitude go quiet,
and I resolve myself in those moments not to
be a part of the cacophony.
But the other voices are so loud that shouting seems
like the only way to go.

…I long for kitten videos…

Pilgrims Progress (Won’t You?)

I’m pretty tired of pilgrims,
(even though I do like the occasional buckle on shoes).
But they’ve worn out their welcome
(AGAIN).
I’d like to put a new sign next to the Statue of Liberty,
One that doesn’t face out but IN:

Take your tired gods, your narrow thinking, your silent (and not so silent) judgment to The Somewhere Else (Not Here). We’re trying to do something different here. Thinking, for starters. DREAMERS wanted. Others need not apply.

And you can take your scarlet letters with you,
From the A all the way to the Z.
(But I’m keeping the shoes.)

Imperativa Regina

I’m a proper modern Eve:
In one hand I hold an apple (that’s a promise)
And in the other hand I hold a spear (and that’s a fact).
I’m standing here for love and compassion,
For the couples who have found one another and just want the same chance at the same kind of life
(To my gay brothers – we have something in common: we’re looking for a good man.
My problem is: I’m wired for Achilles and Cary Grant.)
So as a woman on her own, manning her own phalanx,
I stand and I march and I fight with my heart for the chance for others to love freely,
To marry the love of his or her life.
And to love out in the open air without fear.
For anyone who is lucky enough to find their own star on a bit of racing rock should be encouraged.
Love is hard enough as it is.

I’m standing for freedom and opportunity,
For the young women and girls who one day will have to find spears of their own.
(To the young women – we have something in common: we’re looking for this fight to end.
The problem is freedom is a daily habit, like happiness.)
The chance of me ever having a child is next to none.
My chance came too soon to a girl unready and unfit (I was all apple, no spear).
But I will put my body on the line for your right to choose if or when and how (and with whom).
To choose your time and your place,
Without the interference of the state.
For as every modern Eve knows:
Life is hard enough as it is.

(This is the way I love…
In the imperative.)

What If…

What if
Beauty
were
my hair?
(It has always been,
and when it is,
I am at my most
comfortable.)
And nothing more:
not size,
not angle.
Just shine.

What if
Beauty
were
my eyes?
(I have always loved them,
they are my favorite
color: grey.)
And nothing more:
not photogenia,
not perfection.
Just shine.

What if
Beauty
were
my laugh?
(From my gut and heart,
up from the
tips of my toes,
like gods giggle.)
And nothing more:
Not numbers,
not ratios.

Just shine.

JustLaugh