Kind Words

Thank you

for your words, whether

Kind or not

Matters not

What matters is 

You wrote.

Took me months to look

At the abandoned page 

Empty for years so

I didn’t think to see 

But you wrote, as ever,

Exactly what I needed to hear

From my teacher, my spiritual guide

Through the journey 

The long turning of this decade.

Thank you

For your kind words, you

Once said to me.

And now to you. Thank you.

Thankful, 2016

I am thankful for adversity.
For evil so naked
it gives me strength to fight,
exhausted as I am.

I am thankful for allies.
For surprising support from
unexpected places,
rising from the wreckage.

I am thankful for sight.
For all media, all recordings, all
memories immortalized and broadcast,
so we can truly see.

I am thankful for love.
For brothers and sisters of all kinds,
lifting each other up to
reach the unattainable.

And I am thankful for you.
For sharing this journey
and for always striving
to walk in the light.

Pants

Who wears the pants? Who’s allowed
to have freedom to move, to dance
without fear of exposure
without hands groping, snaking up our skirts
you can’t throw us down across a desk
when we wear pants. Or is it just
more subtle, a sign
of equality, of equal ease and comfort
of equal stature, in our own eyes?
The People’s House 
didn’t allow us to wear pants
until she arrived, and brought
what had been 70 years of freedom
to dress ourselves in slacks
crashing the halls while these Millenials
were babes crying in their cribs.

Don’t tell me she’s the cause,
she’s the Establishment, the root
of the evils she’s been fighting 
longer than you’ve been alive. Just

be glad you live now,
not subjugated in skirts.

This is My America

This is my America.

I wake up each day, grateful, 

knowing my great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers
traveling to this land from across wide seas
not knowing if they could build a life
but opportunity lay ahead
and nothing but persecution lay behind
and they took their Adonai with them
bundled in miniature handmade scrolls
and velvet head coverings.

Knowing that my husband’s ancestors came long before that
either forced onto ships in shackles
for hard lives of brutal labor
or fleeing green hills barren of food
to come here and find plentiful bounty
but hatred still
No Irish signs popping up like
hillside clovers in store windows.

Knowing that my children carry this with them, and more
because their own grandparents,
their father’s familia,
moved here from warmer southern lands
following the trails of San Father Serra
up into Los Angeles
blendings of Latino heritage and cultures,
from California to Texas.

This is my America.

One household, united under God,
With liberty and justice for us all.

Dreams Come True

With you, I’ve
revived teenage glories
mingled with poets
pandered politicians
sailed south on a summer cruise
screamed in joy on roller coasters
kissed at midnight on New Year’s Eve
spoken my own words at an open mike
laughed heartily and daily
put the children to bed as you wash dishes
held hands in every movie
woken cuddled in smiles
flown above the ocean waves

A short list
of the fantasies
you’ve made real
with no real attempt
at being fantastic
just honest truth
that this is how you live
to make my dreams
come true.

With you, I’ve
been set free to soar.