The Poetry Marathon

Yellowed leaves dance in mournful fashion

on sycamore branches that reach the sky.

Lost in a canopy, an intricate pattern of leaf and stick

towering high above.

Soon all the branches will be bare, stark

A brutal truth that comes for us all

and a reminder of greatness for those who

dare to grow beyond.

I last posed with you for a picture at the airport

177 moon sleeps ago.

I had to ask for the picture, but there we are in

our winter coats, time escaping too fast

my heart racing below the layers because

for the first time I didn’t know when

the baby I had born, now a man,

would return to me.

A call that few answer to serve and train

against dangers seen, my son, a Marine,

taking charge of other mother’s sons and daughters,

who said yes to “The Few, The Proud,”

Words etched in our hearts and waking moments.

So we save the pictures that come  –

a glimpse of  purpose, proof of life –

A sign that destiny is unfurling and a mother

who had the courage to say “go and be”

in certain uncertain times

while she too sleeps under a hopeful moon

dreaming of the next time she stands, arm around

her grown child, posing for a moment of proof.

In a world where humans don’t see humans like themselves.

They don’t see men who bleed and breathe the same.

They don’t understand systemic chains of oppression

They just know their life. Their struggle. They think

Their stories could be similar but they don’t see

what some have come to know.

There is a day coming

Where hope breathes true

and the sun rises for all.

Questions push the edge, offering a lifeline

but fear mires progress, drowning in drifts.

How could he and be like me?

Yeats said it best when he said

“the centre cannot hold.”

Desert lives crack and cry,

gasping for air tainted with tumbleweed commerce, sandy greed

and stubby personal gain – equality wanes.

There is a day coming

Where hope breathes true

and the sun rises for all.

So grab my hand, let’s fall on our knees,

open wide our hearts and eyes, receive the rain.

Sew up divisive cud with the sweet cream

of humanity’s purpose and fall into

a time where there is room in our oasis

for all humans. I believe

There is a time coming

When hope breathes true

and the sun rises for all.

Life has a way of over baking.

Without warning the timer has gone off

and you still putz along not knowing that

everything is crisping at the edges.

Good thing your soul is full of

pink sunrises, bird song, and meaningful prayers

filling in small increments a life lived so

when the tears rim your sad eyes

you realize your disaster isn’t the end

and your strength has come in small doses

urging you to try again.

Influence can be a dangerous mechanism

especially when pulled by heartstrings.

‘Do this,’ he cries

and he expects you to comply

because you are related –

a connection that should mean something

but doesn’t always –

The weight of choice crushing light

because the right choice will be wrong

for someone.

So deep breaths, fill your cup,

listen to the dismal rain

calling you over the pounding

of influence’s call and make your choice.

Hi, I don’t remember a time in my life that I haven’t loved poetry so I am thrilled to participate in my first poetry marathon. I teach secondary English courses – AP Literature, Creative Writing, and Junior English – and am an adjunct at the local community college. I have journals full of poetry and I self-published a book of poetry after teaching a writing course through the Greater Kansas City Writing Project. What else? I have two grown sons and will celebrate 27 years of marriage this July. In 2015, I earned my doctorate in educational leadership. I co-founded a non-profit (www.babygrace.org) and am currently a local site director.

I am an avid reader  (I am at 27 books for the year – goal is 75) and tea drinker. My current favorite poets are Billy Collins (his Facebook Live videos during quarantine have been amazing) and Mary Oliver who asked us “what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” and finally, “light/is an invitation/to happiness,/and that happiness/when it’s done right,/is a kind of holiness,/palpable and redemptive.”

I look forward to writing with you and hope we find just the right words to express what we are feeling.

Anne