I Stand Tall

“Bloodied but unbowed"

I stand tall.

Pulling my limbs from the dark tendrils

that unceasingly try to drag me under,

I stand tall.

As Cool Hand Luke, not ready to lose,

I stand tall.

Against the wages of daily stress

With undaunted spirit

Proud of my humanness,

Of spirit,

I stand tall.

With a glint in the eye

And a curl on the lip,

I stand tall.

And, for those in my life,

Or in my memory,

That have shown me how,

I stand tall

Pounded

Pounded.

Digital images

of artificial worlds,

perfect people,

and white teeth

Pounded.

Serious faces

spew grim realities

of a world

of gray.

Pounded.

Allies say

it’s “them.”

We need to rebel

against rules.

Pounded.

Many individuals

collaborate against

the trend,

“Do it our way.”

Pounded.

Uncertain thoughts

within your head

What is right, wrong?

What is.

Pounded.

with hammers

on the soul

until weak.

Hope is depleted,

falling.

Pounded.

To the core

of being

where life sparks

and surges.

Pounded

to the dense

Essence that

will not just

sigh.

Pounded,

yet not failing.

Clawing back

to see and

stand.

Pounded

on the surface.

Strong inside,

Living,

Being.

Indestructable

When I fall,

Or am I pulled?

Deep into the dark

Uncertainty of purpose

And identity

No one or nothing can save me.

I am buried

Like a pebble in mud,

Trapped, immobile

Clinging slog.

I can’t breathe!

I surrender,

Hopeless.

And wait to disappear.

Yet, I see me.

I see a tiny kernel

Of me,

Compacted, condensed

And real.

I am...

It’s the part if me

That cannot be crushed.

The essence of stuff

That makes me...

…Indestructible.

You'll Be There

In the future, there is a classroom

With books and boards and desks.

The floor is worn, maybe a crack in the wall,

But posters splash color and whisper advice.

And you’ll be there.

In this classroom there are students,

Bright and eager and ready to learn.

The world will be opened to them.

Discovery and life will dance about.

And you’ll be there.

Among the students, there will be a few

Trying and doing but not quite getting.

Leaning in, elbow on desk with his writing

Or with her math; a turning point provided.

And you’ll be there.

Among the few, there will be a student,

Sullen or struggling or disengaged.

There will be open battles, quiet chats aside,

Patience required; a long term rescue ensured.

And you’ll be there.

Within the faces, there will be a child,

Noticed, but quiet and blended in.

Not in trouble and not standing out,

Yet from the pat on the back, the confident grin,

The happy room, the warmth of life and learning,

The proud stand, the “good job,"

The hug of safety; unknown, a life change given.

And you’ll be there.

 (for the next generation of teachers)

Rise and Rally

Oh, cancer, you are persistent.

        You attack, young and old alike.

Yes, the list is long of those you have taken.

        But know this,

We rise and rally against you.

With candles and ribbons and tears,

        we stand in memory of those who have fought.

With prayers and science and hands held together,

        we stand by those who face the battle now.

With laughter and hugs and thankfulness,

        we stand with the survivors who are the veterans.

These Heroes All,
have shown us pain, frustration and fear.

But more than that, they have shown us

        the strength of faith,
the grin and grit of courage,
the gleam of hope,
the restfulness of peace

and the unconquered soul

that leads us to

Rise and Rally.

Fireworks

Ready, set, explode.

The squad bursts into motion.
"Whatever It Takes!"
rattles the fans.
Cheers shake the roof.

The mat pops with tumbles,
hand springs and cartwheels.
The Audience watches the
flash and sparks of spirit
erupting into pyramids
with flyers shooting
high into the air.

Sounds vibrate the gym.
A calliope of tucks, tumbles and toe touches are
pinnacled with elevators, extensions
and double twists
bursting skyward.
The crowd applauds the
choreographed motion of exuberant skill that
explodes and illuminates the mat
in a spectacular display
that is a rowdy, beautiful cheer
of Fireworks!

Passion

                     in brief moments

it erupts

  bursting tears and laughter forth

  from a celebration of the senses

  phoenix born from another’s fire

other moments, a spark ignites

  slowly, nibbling, savoring

  all it takes in until

  it roars desire

melding with the soul

              it hungers for more

              craving to be, create, become

              the art that sustains

passion drives to do

               to go beyond mortal limits

               to the essence of true living

               expressing exuberant form

               in a clash of blood and spirit

               dancing and singing

               to live eternally

                                    in brief moments

In the Game

Stop the ball.

Hands high, shoulders low

Eyes focused like a huntress.

She defends the court.

Shuffle and run; run and shuffle

Denial is her purpose.

Ball!

Hungry, a split second to swipe

She pounces on a lose ball.

Banging against her opponent

Bone slamming wood

Skin scorching the wax.

Dish it off.

Pass to the guard

Her knee is bruised,

Burning from the slide.

Sweat trickles at her temple.

Strands of hair dance as she moves.

Pop a pass.

Swing it right and cut.

Reverse the ball back around.

Weave through and set the pick.

Zap, the ball slams her hands

Drive the lane, quick and sure.

Delicate of the glass.

Step high and power up.

Soar above the hands.

She rolls her wrist with grace.

A gentle kiss in the square.

Her eyes shine then flicker.

Stop the ball…

We Play the Game

Our silk we wear has a sash
               of grass stains and dirt

from battles royal.

Bruises blossom dark and purple,
               mixing with last week’s yellow
               and green to make our bouquet.
We wear a crown, but it is nothing
               more  than headband or prewrap

jeweled with sweat.

Soft slippers? No.
               Bright laces don our cleats,
               Double knotted, tough.
Our regal presence on the field
               is a bruised jaw set firm,
               tasting grass and grit.
Heart and Determination
               burns in our eyes,
               a sigil to our oath.
We are pledged to teamwork,
               a sisterhood of Go!
               Crusading for victory.
Yes, we are girls,
               Beautiful and Bold,
               And we play the game.