Select Page

Self-care for me includes writing through the feelings – grief, anger, fear, shame. As we come closer to the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, as I am exhausted by how long the pandemic has gone on, I took to my words for healing and wrote these poems.

It doesn’t matter if you agree with me. What matters is if your words, art or movement, whatever your version of self-care may be, tells your truth, heals your heart. That is all. What is self-care for you?

On the 49th Anniversary of Roe v. Wade

Winter came without joy.
Snowflakes drifting, driving, delicate shapes,
Icy temps too cold for play, just shivers,
Snow angels spread eagled.

Nothing to do, nothing to say,
Secret stories already told.
We huddle inside, safe and lonely,
Hungry for new sights, old friends.

Too long reflecting, regretting,
Time for action, the great resignation,
Reset for justice, reframe for joy,
Change must happen.

Exhausted by hateful words cheered on,
Broken promises of serve and protect,
Unbalanced to the highest court,
Blithe betrayal, gutting settled law.

Women interrupted, ignored,
Laws passed by old, white men
On bodies they don’t own,
Afraid to lose a world

Of boys gleefully sowing wild oats,
Shaming girls who say “No,”
Who clutch pepper spray for safety
Nowhere to be found.

Our beloved democracy –
Republicans try to turn back the clock,
To white males ruling unfettered.
Democrats, discordant, argue onward.

Greta goes, “Blah blah blah!”
Politicians utter careless words for show,
Bent on destruction, obstruction, mad power.
Civility and decency shot down.

Gorsuch, maskless in chambers,
While a global pandemic kills millions.
In their toxic work environment of fear
He calls himself, “Friend”.

Some days, I despair.


Since that one was bleak, I kept going and wrote three more: a short poem and two haikus. I read them last night on a virtual open mic, something I do every month with my Mom.

Sweet Music

The saxophone sound of midnight
Clarion call shines through.
Shadows conceal reveal her
Dancing curves.

Breath held in the dark,
Softly watching listening
Until his hand stretches out
And bodies move together.

Wolf Moon

No howling welcome.
Cold paws step carefully
On brittle fine blades.

In a Dream

Imagine birds fly
Turn into dragons flaming
Outside my window.

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *