In the shower
Temple rests
Exhale
Cool travertine
Wet heat pelts
Tight lumbar spine
Relief
From grip unseen
Loosen, soft-stroke, ease, release
Stored, hoarded energy
Washed away with day’s decay
Let go, un-hold, be free
Photo on US Capitol Grounds, April 2011 by Kim Nelson
They stand tall and at attention
In their uniform yellow and green
Like soldiers in formation
Unaware of unfolding scenes
They line, tip-top
With Johnny-Jump-Up,
Dusty Miller in a row
Creating on the US Capitol grounds
A flowery, springtime show
As wars and raids wage on.
In this complicated, multi-layered, politically charged new world,
It might be easier
To be a wallflower.
In the wild ~ hot ~ cold
Mountains of Afghanistan
You wear whatever’s issued:
Heavy boots
Camouflage
Backpack bearing two weeks’ supplies
And you trudge,
Weapon at the ready.
You know what you’re doing.
Well-trained
For the task at hand,
An insulated, self-sufficient man,
Still
I want you home
From that harsh
Hostile
Land.
When younger,
Feeling completely inadequate and out of place,
I thought I must top everyone at everything.
I had to be smarter, faster, thinner, jump higher.
Traits I deemed negative? Truths, toward ugly?
Eradicate ‘em or bury ‘em deep,
But do not let them ooze or seep
Into the light of day.
Now I’ve been blessed with decades ~
And I learned ( ! )
There will always be someone
~ Who has not yet ( ! ) ~
Who forces herself
To be smarter, faster, thinner, jump higher.
Who fails to see the positive, her truths, toward beauty.
And I send her light and love,
Knowing some day, if she works at it, she will.
It is a story, ages old
Of children left out in the cold
By parents who did what they could
But parenting? They never should.
The children grew up tough and strong,
Yet always feeling somehow wrong.
Joy! Some escaped into the world
Where brilliance glowed, caught fire, unfurled.
Others, though, caught in the trap
Never escaped the undeserved slap.
They bought the story told to them
By folks who could not overcome
Their own dark demons.
And so the story self propels
Those children made their own kids’ hells
But all is not lost.
The hope is this:
Greater numbers will break free
And grow up happy, healthfully
Purifying branches, lines
Creating an army with hearts like lions
They, armed with peace and love and care
Will change the world, then tyrants be aware.
Your days will be limited.