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A Poem for December 1st

This morning,

I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you,

that lifted you up--

strong shouldered words.

Sky held up by long cottonwood branches,

but today is Rosa Parks' day.



This morning,

I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you,

that took your hand.

This is your creation, your dream.

You’ve created a world where we treat each other better,

Dream a world that no longer makes our desires yours.

But today, my sister cracked a case that brought a serial rapist into court,

He sat, alone, staring at a blank wall, shivering and afraid.

My sister: all five foot two inches and one fifteen clicks open her pen.

“So why did we find your DNA where we did?”



This morning,

I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you--

my grandmother, toddler father in her arms,

kicking at the collapsed coal vein uncovering my grandfather,

(back broken) and kept him awake while neighbors ran for help.

She’d tend to 3 kids while he recovered,

continue farming,

chopping wood,

keeping the snow from piling too high on their too small house during the coldest winter on record.



This morning,

I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you--

my wife at an open art studio never backing down.

Homeless artists, too often, have really bad days,

and get what they want out of fear,

and never meet anyone who isn’t afraid,

but then meet my wife.



There’s a power in her that is stronger than me, stronger than might

a way of getting what she wants without force or right,

a way of holding a space,

a way of welcoming everyone with a simple embrace.

There is a power greater than force greater than imposing one’s will.

greater than weapons and storming some hill.

There is a power we need to embrace:

Women should run the corporations,

negotiate the treaties,

police the streets,

write the legislation,

and rule the country.

All men know this to be true.

We saw our mothers do it every day.



This morning,

I wanted to write a poem that celebrated you,

that lifted you up--

strong shouldered words.

Long cottonwood branches held up the sky,

but today is your day,

today is your day,

today is your day.



November 17, 2012



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