Beauty Marks

I saw the tears start to fall

Like rain drops falling

During a savage storm

I saw the tears fall down your face

And through their shine

Could see all

I saw the pain, the hurt, the anger

But mostly, I saw your fear

That this is what life is

I saw their intent

I saw their path

There was no rainbow at the end

There was no gold to reclaim again

I saw your tears start to fall

Beauty marks

I felt your heart beat

Like the drums of a soldier

Before a battle

As he takes up arms to a cause

Not really understanding

But knowing he must fight

His heart beating in fear

His heart banging out his excitement

I saw a land without borders

As two armies faced on a field

The knives in your heart

Piercing through the sound

And rhythm of your heart

I felt your heart beat

Beauty marks

I heard your screams

Like the riot through the city

Fighting against hate, injustice

Pushing against the walls

Banging its fist on the bars of the cell

Never turning your cheek

Knowing the feel of the fist

You never turned down the volume

You never shut your eyes

Or turned my head away

You faced the crowd

You were not glass

You were steel

I heard your screams

Beauty marks

I watched you bleed

As you put the tip

To flesh

Pulling away

Feeling pain

Feeling release

Letting out the bad, the evil, the pain, the unjust

Leaving emptiness

Drops of red falling onto the virgin Earth

Staining the waters

Darkening the skies

You can't always see

The scarred remains of pain

I watched you bleed

Beauty marks

I ached in hunger with you

As you melted away

Starving, aching and in need

Reaching out for substance

Clutching only air

Gasping with need

Shining your searchlight

Into the darkness

But finding only night

Looking desperately

Needing even more

You bones shining through

You feel invisible

I ached with hunger with you

Beauty marks

I have been where you are before

I have walked the same path

The dirt worn by those before me

And those yet to come

I have felt the pain

Of losing who you are

Not recognizing anymore

The face in the mirror

Some wear their scars

Others have theirs hidden deep inside

It is not the loudest in the room

With the strength to carry the world

You do not need permission to feel

The world can hold more emotion than you know

I have been where you are before

Beauty marks

I saw the tears start to fall

I felt the heart beat

I heard the screams

I watched the blood spill

I ached inside and out with hunger

I have been there before

I felt the same pebble in my shoe

I felt the same fire singe my skin

I bled on the same battlefield

I prayed with the same whispered abandon

I screamed love but only heard the resounding echo

And still looked upon my scars

Holding them up to the mirror proud

These scars are not the end...they are beauty, strength, the beginning

Beauty marks

Mommy Dear

The Definition of ME

The Definition of ME

How do you define me?

Am I just a woman?

Are you just a man?

Am I blond, brunette, redhead?

Am I thin, fat, average?

Am I white, black, brown, red, yellow, or blue?

Am I straight, lesbian, gay, transgender?

How do you define me?

Am I my job?

Am I my school?

Am I a mother? A father? A son? A daughter?

Am I tall, short, average?

Am I loud? Quiet?

Am I shy? Outgoing?

How do you define me?

Am I my country?

Am I my state or city?

Am I my religion?

Am I my language?

Am I the East or the West?

Am I the South or the North?

How do you define me?

Am I what I love or what I hate?

Am I what I create or what I destroy?

Am I my opinions?

Am I your opinions?

Am I a hug or a kiss?

Am I a slap in the face?

How do you define me?

Am I my political party?

Am I what I protest?

Am I the sign I wear?

Am I the sticker on my car?

Am I the gun or the sword?

Am I the pen or the paintbrush?

How do you define me?

Am I the bitch?

Am I the slut?

Am I the sweetheart?

Am I the darling?

Am I the sugar?

Am I the spice?

How do you define me?

Am I one word? Ten? Or a hundred?

Am I one picture?

Am I one symbol?

Am I one note? One song? One concerto

Am I the masterpiece?

Am I the novel?

How do you define me?

Am I the silence?

Am I the roar?

Am I the wave or the ocean?

I am the breeze or the tornado?

Am I the rain or the storm?

Am I the thunder or the lightning?

How do you define me?

Am I my illness?

Am I my age?

Am I my family?

Am I my passions?

Am I my addictions?

Am I my sadness or my happiness?

How do you define me?

I do not know.

How will they define me?

I do not care.

How do I define me?

I do not say.

Hello...goodbye...It’s me!

I March On...

My eyes are shadowed

My arms ache

My feet are sore

My heart bleeds

But still I march on…

The sun is in hiding

The sky is crying

The clouds have lost their happiness

The rainbows have lost their colors

But still I march on…

I will walk a thousand miles

Over hills and plains

In the rain and the snow

Alone or in a group

But still I march on...

Words of love are whispered

Words of hate are shouted

You call out labels and names

I shout out “Resist!”

But still I march on…

This wall being built brick by brick

Is around each of us now

This wall you want

Keeps love outside and hate within

But still I march on…

This is what democracy is

Love Trumps hate

Humanity first

No home for hate

But still I march on…

We hold our signs

We hold our fear

We hold hands

We hold strong

But still I march on…

It is not for women, men, or babies

It is not for races

It is not for policies

It is for all

But still I march on…

We sit peacefully by

We nod and smile

We whine and complain

We are fallen by the hill of passivity

But still I march on…

We have marched before

We have raised our voices and fists

We have taken up arms

We have not always won

But still I march on…

This fight is not over

This fight must be won

It is for the heart

of all not just one

But still I march on…

We’ve taken up the weapons of our pens

We’ve raised the crescendo of our voices

We’ve locked arms in solidarity

We’ve stood firm with resolve

But still I march on...

My eyes are shadowed

My arms ache

My feet are sore

My heart bleeds

But still I march on…

I Am Not The Wind...

I am not the wind

I am not the sun

I am not the moon

I am not the Earth Mother

I am not the mother bear

I am not only Mother

I am not a tornado

I am not a hurricane

I am not a storm

I am not a dandelion

I am not a rose

I am not a garden

I am not a porcelain doll

I am not débutante

I am not the princess

I am not the meek

I am not the strong

I am not the aware

I am not my clothes

I am not my shoes

I am not my nails

I am not my hair

I am not my breasts

I am not my ass

I am not the chain around your neck

I am not the guardian at the gate

I am not the browbeaten

I am not the protester

I am not the victim

I am not the pain

I am not the chef

I am not the maid

I am not the chauffeur

I am not the weekend girl

I am not the Tuesday night gal

I am not the whispered secret

I am not red lips

I am not painted nails

I am not rouged cheeks

I am not the dancing queen

I am not the raging bitch

I am not the soft-spoken friend

I am not yours

Nor yours

Nor yours

I am mine

I am the world

I am all and nothing
I am everything in between

 

I am a woman...

A Writer's Resolutions

It is another new year and I find that I am still writing the same novel. I thought I would be done by now. No one can predict the unpredictabilities of life. There was a birth, job changes, moves, vacations, and bad weather. Sometimes when you are writing a novel and, yet working a full-time job or parenting a child, you find that finishing that same beloved novel idea is more of a Mt. Everest climb than just a small climb up a short hill.  At the end of the climb though is a completed novel and a sense of accomplishment so great.

There is also a big learning curve.  When you are writing your first novel it is exciting...until it is not. Then it is work. Writing your first novel you learn how much you really love writing and how committed you are to the process.  When you start each chapter is a step-down adventure and each character is a new friend.  Unless you truly love writing and see the rewards all the work it takes brings then those chapters stop coming and you are stuck on that path not going any further and those friendly characters start to be nagging burdens along the way.

When a new year starts many people create resolutions.  I am going to eat better, diet and lose ten pounds, exercise more, stop swearing, work harder, or simply dress better.  Ok, maybe not the last one but resolutions are the way to ring in a new year often. I used to hate going to the gym in January. It would be packed with the resolutioners.  All of them hell bent to go to the gym everyday for the rest of the year. By February I had the gym all to myself again.

Writers make resolutions as well.  I am going to write everyday. I am going to post more on my blog. I will post on my blog once a week. I am going to do more research. I am going to write ten poems this year, or this month. I am going to create characters that are amazing. I am going to finish my novel and maybe even finish a second novel.

A new year starts, the champagne pops, the ball drops, the kisses start, the noise makers blow and the resolutions are planned out.  Writers are no different in this.  But, February always starts and those resolutions have become work and in many cases, a distant memory.  I have been working on my novel for years. This weekend I did finish another chapter and I have two or three more chapters left to be written before the first draft is completed. This is exciting and it would be great to say, "This year I will finish my novel." "This year I will be published."

That is not my resolution, though.  I have never been a huge fan of making resolutions.  They were always like making false promises or false declarations.  They sound great to the ears but often end up in tears.  So this year I made one resolution.  It is not a promise.  It is an awareness that writing and being a writer takes a lot of work.  It is not all romance and adventure.  It isn't a movie and it is easy.  Even with my one resolution, there is an understanding about what being a writer truly is.  A truly passionate writer does know the work it takes to be creative.  A real writer though revels in that work. A real writer is compelled to write.  It is a need like breathing or eating.

So as I ring in 2017 my resolution for the new year is to just continue writing. That is all. Just continue doing what I love. Don't just write for work or for others but write for me.  I see a year of succeeding at this resolution but good luck on your diet and with your gym membership if that was yours.

The Many Sides of Jury Duty

Even when you are almost completed with your novel, there are only a few chapters to go, when you are a working parent to a baby it is still hard to find time to write.  You can try to write during your lunch break at work but in an open office setting that is not ideal when people are constantly talking or interrupting your creative train of thoughts.  So that hasn't worked. You can wait until your baby falls asleep.  If you were lucky enough to have a baby that slept and slept in their own bed. So that hasn't worked.  You can try to write while your baby is playing with her toys.  However, when your little one is attracted to what you are doing and the paper and pen you are using, you can get one paragraph written or edited but, that won't obviously work either.

So, what do you do?  This writer was lucky enough to get a jury summons. Serving my civic duty I went to go serve my jury duty. I dressed nicely and showed up right on time.  Thankfully, I wasn't late but I did manage to squeak in just at the last minute.  I made my way to the third floor and waited in a long line to register my presence for jury duty and get my official badge.  Then I made my way to the jury lounge where you wait to get called to serve on a jury panel.  The room I entered was very long and set up almost like a church with chairs on both sides of the room and an aisle in the center with a podium at the top of the room.  This is where the woman announces all the names and numbers of the individuals who get called to a jury panel.  The room was warm but that may be because when I walked into the room it was a little like walking in after church has already started.  The chairs were full and you had to walk down until you found a spot in the center and ask the people to let you in.  In the jury room the people were less gracious about having to move their stuff from the chair next to them to let you sit there, but I persevered, stood my ground, and got a seat I wasn't about to give up so no bathroom breaks for me.

Then, I did the most exciting thing of my day. I sat. I sat, and sat, and sat.  Doing your civic duty is dull.  At one point the court people played a video introducing you to jury duty and all you should know.  I would rather have sat in silence. The video was a bit like something you would see explaining to a toddler what jury duty was.  I did get to watch many of the people which I do enjoy doing. I say the man who obsessively checked his phone and in lightening speed kept going through various apps.  I say the woman who was slumped over asleep.  I noticed most of the people in attendance did not dress business casual as I did so I was a bit overdressed for jury duty.  Maybe they would think I was a lawyer and not call my name.  There was the couple I sat next to who discussed playing tennis at the club on the weekends with other friends.  It was and interesting mix of DC elite, worker bees like myself (we stood out in our business attire), and regular DC people who probably grew up in DC their whole lives.

The people watching lasted about twenty minutes before my mind began to wander and the sitting started to become antsy shifting in my chair constantly. I saw many people reading newspapers or books and was wishing I had remembered to bring one.  It always takes me so long to wake up in the morning that I should have packed one the night before.  Alas, I forgot.  What I did have though is paper and pens.  As a writer, I am almost never without paper and pens.  There are even pens in my bathroom on the off chance that an idea will hit in there.  You would be amazed how many creative ideas come to an individual during solo, quiet time in the restroom.  Da Vinci probably thought up the design for the Mona Lisa, Einstein could have thought through the concept of E=MC.  Nonetheless, I pulled out my paper and my pen and actually got to do some writing.

I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.  I can not remember when I was able to work on my writing for such a long period of time.  It felt so good and I got so lost in my writing that it took me a minute to realize after about an hour that the woman at the front was about to call names to sit on a panel and I would have to pay attention.  So my brain left the 1800s quickly and entered back into the stuffy, overpopulated jury lounge.  After reading names and numbers for about twenty minutes the room became almost empty because they called so many of the individuals to serve on jury panels.  After the last name was called, my name never yelled out as one of the intended to serve, I sat back and waited as everyone left.  Then in the silence of the now sparsely populated room I re-entered the realm of intrigue and suspense.

This became my sole occupation during jury duty, sitting and writing.  I never got called to a jury panel which means I spent my day sitting in the jury lounge waiting and writing.  I would have thought it a wasted day if I never had a chance to do so much writing.  Jury duty became an exciting adventure in finishing chapter thirty-one.  Though, I do not wish to have jury duty again any time soon, I am ever grateful that I finally found a time to get some real writing done without little hands pulling on paper, grabbing my pen, pulling my hair, or trying to type on the computer.  It also puts me another chapter closer to the end.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is getting very exciting.

At 2:30 the lady at the front in true Queen of Jury Duty style lavishly announced we could leave for the day and not come back. We were dismissed. I happily trot out of the courthouse without having to sit on any jury panel but a completed chapter in my bag. My many adventures in jury duty were accomplished. At least until I get called again.