Monthly Archives: September 2016

Circle of Powwow

Time stands still–
There is no time,
Yet every time melds together.

The hunter stalks the deer;
The priestess prepares the sacrifice;
The leaders accept merciless defeat with courage and grace;
Generation Y snaps, twitters, tweets, and posts.

The drums and flutes weave a melody
In tune with the rhythm of the seasons
And the heart of humans.

Bright colors flicker and fade
Among earthy browns and greens,
A veritable kaleidoscope
Of harmony with nature and the eye.

The minority stands and leads by example,
But the youth…
Where have they gone?
Why do they leave it all to old, grey heads?

Author’s Note: In fairness, I suspect the youth are either at school or at Standing Rock… which I hear has a temporary reprieve until the election cycle is over.


Personal Update, End of Summer 2016

Time is flying. My youngest is back to school while my twins are pounding the pavement looking for gainful employment. My husband has learned he needs both hips replaced, with the first surgery just in time for the holidays.

Feel like you need a breath? I did, and I do. I’m finding my writing comes in cycles. I go days with nothing, and then in one day I can write several pieces.

I’m trying to be a little disciplined and give you as my audience small bits at regulated intervals. Yet, I don’t want to schedule so far out that doomsday happens, and I’m posting to no one for a month.

My husband, dreadfully concerned for my health and sanity and thereby the sanity of all I live with, sent me away for a weekend to an all nations powwow. Not his choice, mine. Mostly out of curiosity and my need for a slower pace.

The pieces that are scheduled for the next three weeks are written as a result of that event. Mind you, I’m not native, so don’t look at these pieces as the be all and end all of native lore. They’re just my thoughts and feelings as I attended and browsed bazaar stalls and smelled wonderful smells that still have my eyes watery and sticky (yeah, allergies aren’t good).

Also know that there is only respect and no offense intended.

Storm Dancer II: Sitting It Out

The wind whips up
As skies darken.

It’s not her storm,
She didn’t make it.

All goes black with clouds covering the sun,
Broken only by flash of light and explosion of sound.

Shaven and shorn so her hands do nothing for her head,
She knows she must dance the storm.

The air grows heavy.
Too much moisture waiting to break.

It’s not her storm.
She cannot find the rhythm of nature’s pattern.

The wind and darkness gain intensity,
Dazzling the senses into dysfunction.

She can’t find His Voice,
So she thinks she dances this storm alone.

Another thunder-clap breaks,
But the rain doesn’t come yet.

She sighs and closes her eyes,
Blocking interference to recall His Words.

The rain suddenly pelts down,
And still no rhythm comes.

She cannot dance this fight.
She knows she is to sit this one out.

Wind whips, thunder claps,
Lightning blazes, rain pelts.

She knows His Voice speaks peace.
He could stop the storm, but He stops her instead.

Darkness grows as the storm intensifies.
With eyes shut tight she sits and waits.

As suddenly as the storm came, it ends.
She just sits as the Son shines down.

A rainbow promises eventual perpetual victory–
Never in this life, always in the next.


As I stand at the sink washing vegetables,
You sneak up behind me.
Your breath on my neck
Starts to melt my cares.
Then you place your hand on my stomach,
And I catch my breath.
I know that spot is empty.
There’s no way to house new life.
Yet I wish…

I wish we were 20 years younger,
Together as newlyweds starting out.
A grainy grey and white photo hangs on the fridge–
With the next gold medal gymnast
Tumbling around inside of me,
Kicking against your hand held within mine.
That cock-eyed boyish grin spreads across your face
And makes your crinkly eyes twinkle.

But it’s no good.
So I start to inhale deeply
And melt into your arms again,
To appreciate the love, hope, and joy
You’ve birthed into my life.
Knowing that it’s enough for you
Helps grow it into more than enough for me.

As I See It

We are asleep at the wheel.
Our women are chained, gagged, and bound.
Our men are drunk on power, possessions, and privilege.

We are blinded by the glitter of fool’s gold.
Tied to silicon circuits, our children can’t connect to flesh and blood.
Our adults can’t connect to our children.

We are deafened by a multitude of choices.
Our working class has no guide and no labor.
Our scholars never fully evaluate consequences with common sense.

We are a broken people.
We are dead inside.
We are poor in our prosperity.

We cannot feel the pain of others.
We cannot move out of our comfort zone.
We cannot share our abundance of things that have no meaning.

We don’t build up.
We don’t reach out.
We don’t see beyond the blind(ness)ers.

Rise up!
Shake off your sleep!
Stand strong!

See the danger in faux connection.
Speak the warning of future bleakness.
Hear the cries of the needy, hungry, empty.

Ask for light.
Seek to love.
Choose to live.

Careening Toward the End

Knowledge explodes.

From biology
To virology, bacteriology, immunology, epidemiology…

From abacus
To mobile, cloud, Android, iOS…

From chores
To pilates, zumba, yoga, swing…

Connection deflates.

Eye color unknown
Due to staring at a screen…

Vocal quality unheard
Due to letters thumbed in…

Emotions unexplored
Due to emojis and emoticons…

Souls undeveloped
Due to too much social media and not enough knee time…

Faster and faster…
More and more…
Agendas and schedules and skype…

Weaker and weaker…
Less and less…
Manners and courtesy and caring…

Too much change, too fast…

I choose Jesus.

He is the same today
As He was yesterday
As He will be tomorrow.

I choose His Word.

The sun will melt,
The moon will dissolve,
The stars will fade,
But His Word remains forever.

The World on My Platter

My word is my bond.
I have nothing if I don’t have integrity.
The issues are so complex
I cannot find the right kind of mentor.
I love life,
And I want to shine His Light
To a dark, weary, dreary, blind place.
It’s a solitary solo stance.
I feel exposed and naked.
Shame fights to pull me down
Yet grace buoys me up.
I want to be so real
That the spiritually hungry beg for Living Water.
I want to be so authentic
That my love for others
Blinds them to my sin
And momentary hypocrisies.

I want..Me and Jesus at the Convent.
I want…
I want…

The world to willingly bend the knee to My Master,
Knowing He is the only Perfect One,
Knowing His followers are only perfect in being broken.