Tag Archives: choice

post truth

Standard

the world has equalized
#MeToo needlessly ruining lives
protect the artists and politicians
as work is more relevant than any dark deeds

the meek shall inherit
everything left
after corporate tax breaks

racism is extinct
every man for himself
pulling hard on those bootstraps
achieves the dream

choice in education
paves the way
to brighter students
versus heavier pockets
for the few

dreamers can dream
all they want
and live anywhere freely
in those wild imaginings

if you die violently
you should have been carrying
unless your skin is black or brown
in which case it is always your fault

the intricacies of female anatomy
are better managed
by those who are most effected
leave it to the wise men

smaller more efficient government
must include consolidating
legislative, judicial, and executive
branches need pruning

opinions are more relevant
and significant than facts
the showman has earned
his time on the boards

this sleeping dog lies

we are free
we are safe
we are happy

Day 29

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Just LIke You

Standard

I was not born with preternatural patience, or designed
with a temperament well suited to long stays in hospitals,
or a back better tailored for the rigors of countless nights
spent in bedside sleep chairs. I didn’t have an aptitude
for biological or psychological sciences and, in fact, actively spent
my younger years recoiling from any unpleasant bodily fluids
produced by others — like stomach bile and blood, feces
and vomit. I couldn’t even manage to stare down my own
stitched up wounds after surgeries or wash away the dried blood
from healing incisions. I had no special affinity for the medical
fields and disliked chemistry class. I was the wanderer

in the woods. The girl writing poetry in the lilac hedge. I dreamed
of being a reporter and novelist, raising two children, named
Casey and Zenobia, and taking them backpacking in Central
America. They would be precocious free-thinkers, tiny
social activists who lived their convictions. They would challenge
me intellectually, morally, and emotionally. I would watch
them storm with confidence into their wide-open world.

But I don’t get to craft the storyline of my actual life.
This is no tidy fiction or poem to be worked out neatly. Swirls
of genes and forces of nature and economy hold sway. I get
what I am given when it comes to DNA and health. My choice
is how to lift and carry every interesting abundance offered.
Other than being gifted the privilege of parenting children
with special needs, there is nothing special about me.
My children are not my children because I was well suited
to meet their needs. I have learned on the job, like every parent,
how best to help my children be their best. Or at least to aim
for that mark. Time on task has taught me how to keep
my medically fragile child alive, how to function on regular,
daily doses of restricted sleep, how to hold down a job
outside of my home while being a full-time medical manager
for my high needs honeys, how to bake cakes and change g-tubes.

I am just like you.

Every day, I choose.

Day 10

Collide or Glide?

Standard

She wanted to jump out of plane
and drop heavy through screaming air
see the ground rush towards her
feel her heart beat against her ribs
and know she and Earth
would meet violently one last time
if she didn’t pull the cord

So started every day
with a choice
to keep plummeting
or slow her descent
and turn her chaotic hurtle
into a controlled approach

NaPoWriMo Day 28