24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Within castle walls ,
You shelter the world
Within your peace and grace.
Ancient, yet your understanding
Ever young.
Who wouldn’t bow to a queen?
I’d love to bend the knees before you.
Do queens die?
I still dream of an unfettered life
free
decades later I’m still imprisoned in an image
crafted
by others for profit.
Bare and vulnerable I posed
hoping
I could be seen as someone
human.
The ‘perfect’ woman is really a
man
But all I wanted was to be a
mother.
we all are aware
that
a cop would never
press his blue knee
down
on the white neck
of an Ivy-Leaguer
We have been told again and again
in all kinds of languages
modern, ancient
written, oral
rhyme, prose
urban, rural
scientific, plain English
lingua, tongue
spoken word, sign
cartoons, paintings
in times of heat, in times of cold
in times of draught, in times of floods
in times of fires, in times of melts
our ears unable to see
our eyes unable to hear
prophecy to our grasshopper play
is terrifying
is not, Rachel Carson
Today,
My Mother is
bent with age.
Calloused hands that
once held mine-
through Education, Illness and Time!
Memories swim through her
Eyes!
Talking, sharing and laughing,
we have swam miles-
Together!
Yet today, we
Wade!
through memories
Fearing Forgetfulness
of anything new.
My warrior sister, my mother-
My muse!
Today,
My Mother is
Bent with
age
but fearlessly
facing tomorrow
in Strength!
By Ingrid Exner, 2020 Half Marathon
For Susan B. Anthony
Petticoats fluttered, I suppose
on those endless rides across the prairie.
Your heart may have fluttered, too,
as you braced to speak out.
So much of that ride was uphill
through cold landscapes.
Still, the landscape softened;
hills flattened; fences dropped.
Your travels and speeches
left a permanent trail.
We follow your path today —
speaking out with fluttering hearts
on every uphill ride.
Michelle
she didn’t know that
she would feel this way
woken woman
didn’t expect that
the white house
would be white washed
as if she wasn’t there
antiseptically wiped away
by white privilege
while a virus
survives
wipes
less than
deep rooted
resentment
breeding deep inside.
a heart frozen
in hate
can’t thaw
until the drive
to win at the cost
of someone else’s
loss
is buried deep
in a history that
doesn’t understand
we were born to learn
lessons that prism white
into a rainbow of colors
while Michelle bides
her time until we see
that black and white
blend into who we can be
In the presence of a Goddess, I am transformed.
I am seen. I am known. I am loved. I am enough.
She often says, “I’d rather ask forgiveness
than ask permission” and
this is how she creates
magic from her intentions.
Beachside cottages, children,
an apartment for the cats,
then a labyrinth, a real labyrinth,
taking shape in the desert
under her direction.
At the solstice we gather
and set our intentions,
then walk the circular path
toward peace and clarity.
We bless the four directions.
We drink cider and eat gingersnaps.
We build community made possible
by one woman’s bold vision.