Mirror

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Stage I: Messy Art Journaling

 

Hey there, preening girl!

“beauty” is destined to flee

“Real You” will remain

 

About this poem: as I age and raise teenage daughters, I realize the stage where I was distracted by the issue of physical appearance played a “hyped up” role in identity.  All that time and energy directed toward something I was really not in control of could have been invested in cello playing, writing or reading a good book.

I’m also keenly aware that I still care more than I would like to – I exercise now with the goal of building and keeping muscle/strength but aesthetics still has some play in my intentions.

Our culture idolizes the young, which is silly because being young is fleeting and not based on wisdom or experience. It’s just dumb luck.

 

 

 

Quiet Hero

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Tuesday Doodle

She shuffles to the register

her head, cocked slightly, shakes

The customer, in his sports gear, looks on

irritated, he tries to rush her with his eyes

 

But she’s unmoved – stiff, slow and careful

her quivering hand cradles his produce

she glides it over the scanner gracefully

he searches the ceiling for . . . . . . . . . . . . . mercy?

 

He jams his card in the chip reader

the receipt trembles in mid air

he grabs it from her, forcefully smirks

and mutters as he walks away

 

She doesn’t see this

because she’s smiling and nodding

at the next customer

her rebellious body complies unsteadily

 

for now

 

 

 

 

 

Hedgehog

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Daily Painting Practice with August Wren (#13)

She goes about her business

and will tighten into a ball if you harass her

Her spines fall out under extreme stress

but she’s resilient (!) – they grow back

 

she’s vocal, nocturnal,

and has a natural immunity against snake venom

(through years of evolution?)

omniverous and vociferous

 

the badger can’t stay away

 

 

 

{Reading up on the hedgehog, it reminded me of the #metoo movement}

 

 

 

 

Legacy

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Parakeet – Daily Painting Challenge (Animals, Day 5)

Sitting with my daughter “Bunny” by the pool

we talk about Kate Spade’s suicide and sadness we’ve never known

Bunny’s hair is fanned all over the pool deck, her clear eyes to the sky

Spade wrote a letter to her 13-year-old daughter

telling her it wasn’t her fault

my words ride the waves of the pool and get sucked into the filter

Looking at Bunny, the note seems an especially cruel gesture

In the distance, we can hear a woodpecker on aluminum siding