911

Many years ago someone said to me: 

“I’ve never called 9-1-1. The kind of people that call 911 seem like needy parasite types”.


And I wondered:  Wouldn’t it be nice to live such a posh life that all my needs were met, that my health care was never in danger,  that I was always physically safe?

It takes a lot of grit to call 9-1-1.  It is frightening. There were many times I took a beating to avoid calling.   

So what kind of people call 911?  This kind of person. Me.

I called 911. . .

*When my ex husband tried to strangle me.

*When my landlord shot my cat.

*Last year when in the wee hours of the morning I heard men chanting “White Power” from a nearby rooftop.

*And lastly, when I went to wake up my baby girl and realized that she was dead.



All of these experiences have shaped who I am and helped me to relate to people in unexpected ways. It has also put me in a position where some people can't relate to me. But, even with all I've been through, I still carry so much privilege.

I may be impulsive, flighty, and I still struggle when I have to hold still for long periods of time (you know like 10 minutes). For years I shamed myself for these traits. Not anymore.  No shame.

Because dammit, I have a lot to offer and  I’ve got GRIT.

Belonging

I am different

I don't belong

It's a different plane
That I'm on

Back in time

I squeezed and contorted
Pouring myself
In a mold to be thwarted

Some people march
To a different sound
And we have great value
And love profound

Nowadays
I sing my own song
And long for the places
Where I always belong

Falling upward
Passing through fear
I am a safe place
You belong here!

Lost in the Desert

 

Run in the desert

With all the  cacti

So many trails

To our fate belie

Coyotes howl

We're 2 miles in

The sun feels so nice

Let's just keep runnin

We're not lost

I remember that saguaro

And that one, and that one

Which way pointed the aarow?

Retracking our prints

In the Sonoran sand

Bushwhacking cacti

Events unplanned

In the wilderness

Skills to the test

Women be problem solving

No need to digress

We made it back safely

Adventure had we

Thank you Tucson

Girls desert glee

Wood Fired Cauldron

It’s the time of year, not 40 below

But still, outside, there’s a lot of snow

To build a fire, the cauldron I stoke

the water's ice cold, and I want a Hot soak

 

Feeding the fire, from mornin' till late

Snow falling down, at last, its 108°F

 

Fresh moonlit snow, weighing down on the trees

submerged to our necks, so we won't freeze

 

The Cats watching intently, their humans amusing

Then one scurries off, an idea pursuing~

 

Temperatures rising, I'm feeling hot, Yo!

So, I get out of the tub, and into the snow

 

I roll to my left, roll to my right

And there in my face;  A loathsome sight

The proud kitty's gift from sometime last week

Retrieved from its grave

A headless squirrel nuzzles my cheek

North Dakota February Bliss

 

Riverside hikes

Beaver dens

40 degrees

Searching for Zen

Squirrel watching

With the best of intents

 We're just watching for fun

They mew in defense 

Hike over the ice

All the deer trails

Not a mosquito in site

But, lots of white tails

Cuddle with George

Home at last

LOVING this moment

before it has past

Poems~ To Love by

Shells washed ashore

Broken, tattered

Tossed about by the ocean

Into pieces they’ve shattered.

Yet, beauty exists.

Each piece plays a part.

Carefully Placed

They create a loving heart.

Love is my mantra

Love is my game

Love is my hope

Love's my real name.

Whittling, carving, shaping

Embracing

My wild tender heart

Finding new form

Growing, feeling

All there is to love

Woodfired cauldron

One Hundred and Eight

Pre-Dawn Soak

With my soulmate

My heart pours out

As I learn grace

All these new feels

He simply holds space

Radical self acceptance

Rising inside me

A paradigm shift

Honoring the She

Woke in Heidelberg

Free from shame

Herself she claims

Honoring her fire

Igniting flame

Self devotion

Owning emotion

Rising like

Waves in the ocean

Celebrating the rise

Joy in her eyes

Seems to me

2000 reprise

Wild and free

Learning to be

Now is the time

Honoring the SHE.

This moment

Suffering

Darkness

sinking in pain.

I must pass through this shadow to gain…

 

To gain peace

To gain light

All my love uncovering

I brave the dark times

To expose my soul to the suffering

 

Experiencing All there is

I gain depth and compassion

A cup full of heartache was only part my ration

 

For, before I could suffer

A pain of this weight

I had to know,

Something {that} great.

 

My heart is full

And I love to its depth

Consequently,

This means a deep and wide breadth

 

 

I have my memories

I honor my bestowment

I don’t need much more…

 

For, I have THIS moment.

 

And I choose to live fully,

Sad Cat Diary

 Dear Diary,  the authorities continue to torment me to the point of exhaustion.  

Cradling me as if I am some sort of toy or doll, objectifying me to no end.  I think I will die.  Okay, I died.  I am now dead.   From the cuddle torture.
Oh wait, somehow I survived, but sadly only to endure yet more malicious cuddling torture.

Dear Diary,

The authorities have dropped the outdoor temperatures to lethal
levels.
Death is imminent. And now they have built some sort of flaming
log structure to prolong my suffering.
I am now forced to sit and watch forlornly as I die a slow death.   

Dear Diary,  I fear that my spirit is finally broke. 
I have pleaded with the authorities to scratch behind

my ears, yet, it seems they are careless or just plain
stupid, after scratching behind my ears they also scratch
my back.
Of course I am forced to follow protocol and scratch
the hell out of them.




 

Dear Diary,  The authorities have made it their sadistic policy to feed me only 3 times per day, plus snacks.  Despite my continual calling out in starvation.

As you can see, I will soon wither away and die.  This is definitely my last entry.

  
 
Dear Diary,
There is no love.  The authorities have completely abandoned us- for nearly an hour now. Ignoring, neglecting, total disregard for our petting and massaging needs.  I am sure they are gone forever.
 
  Dear Diary,

After enduring nearly 4 weeks of constant name calling, bullying, harassment and starvation I have been left alone to suffer with the dark images the authorities have burned into my mind “Widdle Fwuffers” , “Fat, Fat”, “Fluffer Nutter”, “Sargent Cuddles”- just to name a few.  Sticks and stones break my bones, and the Authorities words destroy me.  
 
 
 
Dear Diary,  
The authorities are tracking my every move.  My whereabouts are under constant surveillance. And now it seems my worst fears are turning to reality.  The hippy smelling one is hunting me to use my pelt as a coat.
This may be my last entry.