In the dark night sky
the flat honk of geese announce
“You’re being unreasonable.”
She wants to pound the meat of her fists against stone.
Press them against the blank canvas of her face.
Leave behind a bright butterfly of rage,
And scream that life is not all reason.
In fact –
Much of what she’s been taught is irrational and unreasonable.
That “you’re being unreasonable” truly means, “you’re not cooperating with what I want”.
This is her experience.
This is what she learned as a child.
Not truth. Nothing so pure as reason.
She doesn’t complain. Doesn’t cause trouble.
What does a good girl get?
Nothing but crumbs of peace. Stolen solitude.
What does a good girl become?
An angry woman.
(February 22, 2009)
lies abluted at road side
by warm, summer rain
You were a giant.
No small wonder my world shook
the morning you fell.
(tribute to my father who passed 6.19.10)
You, wearing painted scales
and extension blinders,
fettering vision of two and
third eye blind.
You see only your blemish,
But I see you true;
I see your unicorn soul.