Tag Archives: author

Ignoring Allies

Where is the logic to ignore support? It feels a lot like speaking from within a void when those you support can’t be bothered to respond and let you know they hear you and appreciate the added voice. This tendency that many have, has the power, not to change the support, but to silence the voice of support. It makes one think that those who wish to push for better lives, not only want the support, but wish to direct who can support them; like it’s necessary to discriminate in who is allowed to be an ally.

It doesn’t matter as I’ll still stand up and say to all the women who’ve felt the sting of being tormented for simply being a woman; you are loved, even if that love comes from those you don’t know yet. Hold to your faith that someday the scales will be balanced.

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The Heart Can Only Take So Much

Battered, bruised, the heart can’t take it for a lifetime and remain viable. Such is my heart as rejection is the norm. I hear the platitudes that I should just live for myself but that breeds bitterness. The seeds of the bitter are planted and a crotchety old man is taking form. Ruined I am for this world and a sincere wish to see the next soon grows with each day.

The Sudden Question

She awakens, showers and dresses with all the careful attention to detail she’s come to expect. As she stands before the mirror, putting on her makeup she has a sudden question, “Why am I doing this? I’ve spent my life working on this ritual but never asked this of myself.”

She studies every feature of her face as her mind works on the answer then she has a sudden smile as she replies, “I do this for myself.”

The day is glorious because she understood this.

Be well all the glorious women however you appear and never change unless you can say this same thing, “I do this for myself.”

The World is a Heavy Weight

Trying to find your place in a world you don’t believe in feels like a weight crushing the soul. After spending the bulk of my life ducking my head in the sand it feels like I’m trying to speak to people using a dead language. In my attempts to make my voice heard, I feel like I’ve lost touch with how to talk. It doesn’t help when you’re a non-conformist. I have a hard time connecting to people through what’s deemed important today because I can’t share that sense of importance. I can’t bring myself to be the performing monkey or the dog that behaves for fear of biting the master’s hand.

It is my basic wish to hear people’s opinions on my work; positive or negative. Both perspectives help growth but silence is the breeding ground of stagnation. I feel like a relic of a bygone era because I didn’t grow up in an era with massive support. I grew up in a time when people swallowed their issues. Now there’s tons of support for the youth but for those like me, the world seems to be running me over and passing me by.

Popping the Bubble of Insecurity

I stand before the world but behind the walls of the box called insecurity I was placed in through bullying and never found the key to get out. Most of the blame belongs on my shoulders as I allowed this state to cost me many things that mattered a great deal in my life. At 41 I’m searching for the means to break the box but afraid I’ve chased away all my support.

Bullying is a crippling affliction when it starts young and barely lets up in the adult life. Growing up in an era when we didn’t have the massive support; being shunted behind the doors with signs reading, “Boys will be boys,” and “You know how kids are.”

Many are the feelings of wanting to fold; to give in; to lose hope. My fight is with hope and the honest belief the walls of my self-imposed prison are too thick to break. I try. Oh…how I try, to pop the bubble and reconnect to the important past but I’ve been left behind and do not know enough of the current world to connect to anyone new.

I’ll continue to try but I run from the grip of an early grave with slower and slower steps as I dive headlong into the very activities; or lacking the active; that’s turning me to face it rather than run. I sit here in front of my computer day in and day out, smoking, feeling my body getting weaker by the day and caring less and less if I ever find the real answer.

I send out my cry within the bubble; expecting backs to be turned with the earbuds in and continue to try and fail to find even one who’ll take the distractions out of their path and see something valuable worth preserving.

Sports Writing: Breanna Stewart

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BREANNA STEWART

Boss steppin’ on the court as her passion stakes her claim.

Respect the grace as she dominates while you read her name.

End of game is a foregone conclusion of victory lest you bring all.

Away or home the court is hers requiring full effort to take the ball.

None but those sharing the jersey can match her b-ball beauty.

None but those facing her in the post can appreciate her fairly.

And the face on this, warrior of the rock, stirs passion hot.

 

Six-foot-four is her posted height and ungainly she is not.

Take a step in the wrong direction guarantees her team’s score.

Even odds or better, when she’s in her element it’s never a bore.

Winning on the court or in life is this angel’s due.

Attaining respect for the woman she is, shouldn’t be anything new.

Radiant is her soul as she stands above the rest.

The chance to see this baller in person once, fuels hope’s zest.

Distrust Is A Weight Too Heavy

It stands to reason that most people feel more distrust than trust and this is as it should be. When the weight of distrust is so heavy that it drowns any chance to trust at all, it feels like you’re holding the world up by yourself. It kills the voice and the will to keep fighting. I hear the arguments that you need to do for yourself but I’m placing it at ninety-five percent of those people could point to at least one person they trusted absolutely. The lack of being able to find even one person to trust that much kills hope. It kills self-worth. The desire to keep finding the voice and trying gets harder every single day.

She

She

Such a simple word, isn’t it? Yet, it encompasses a world of everything. Pain, glory, fun, tenderness; all parts of being a person first. Unfortunately the word, “SHE”, creates a desire in some to bring this glory down, keep it in pain, under control.

The word, “HE”, does not bring with it a set of instructions that includes treating, “SHE”, like secondary citizens. This may be harsh but it is only truth. The man who must keep, “SHE”, down is announcing to the world his cowardice; his unwillingness to face the possibility she won’t choose to stay.

The unwillingness to accept the word, “NO”, and simply make demands pours all the weaknesses out of the closet for the world to look on and judge. Speaking isn’t necessary. All it requires is the simple action of placing a harmful hand on, “SHE”, and you allow the world to glimpse your weakness in glaring detail.

Real strength comes from staring your fear of her loss in the face and saying; “I accept your choice, no matter what it is.” It comes from holding that harmful response at bay and let her choose if she wants the tender hand on her face. If that person – she – really matters to you then her happiness; wherever it comes from; should be more important than if she finds that happiness with you.

To say; “She must find happiness with me or else,” means she isn’t the most important person to you. You are the most important person to you.

If, “SHE”, truly matters then you should be able to revel in her smile; no matter what the source of that smile is.

Perish the Dream of the Soul Contained

Hold a dream in the palm of your hand. Digits close quickly – strongly- trying to hold on tight. The dream changes shape; loses its appeal; as the streams slip through your fingers. It pulls at your heart; this travesty at a dream lost for attempting to crush it close.

Hold a dream in the palm of your hand. It lives, it breathes, as it stays of its own accord and you feel majestic as this dream’s choice. It builds, it grows, in the freedom from being captured but fulfilling its purpose upon the choice to stay.

Simple is the idea that a living thing, in whatever form, brings greater beauty in its freedom to leave but staying because that’s where it wants to be. Expectation, obligation and control; these crush the spirit of the living. Choice, desire and hope; these bring the spirit alive and bring the best out of the living.

Fear of loss is a gripping power; terrible in its embrace. To covet something as, “mine,” absorbs the beauty and keeps it contained, unseen. Anger at the threat of loss turns beauty dull as it tries to blend in – hide.

Acknowledgement is a form of freedom. All of the living wish to be seen in its freedom and hear from those living in its presence. To gaze on the treasure of its beauty but to hold opinion back is another trap to kill the beauty. Even an unkind opinion is still valuable for it allows for growth. To hold back the opportunity for growth is control and limits the beauty that could be.

Comments should always be welcome. It is simply the desire to reach out hands to control the beauty of the living that should be reined in.

Be well, every valuable soul that dreams freely. This means all of you.