Why was I crying in church this morning?

As we go through life, our tastes change. I used to hate broccoli. Now I enjoy it. The same is true of classical music: it used to be something to be endured, not appreciated. Now I take pleasure in the interplay of the instruments and their dynamics. But I never would have thought that I could gain an appreciation for PMS.

Most women dread those few days each month when their bodies and their emotions go crazy. I, however, have begun to feel a distinct feeling of gratitude for that time. When else is a woman allowed to show her feelings? When else is it "okay" to cry, to criticize, and even to yell a little? People may turn to me with a look of incomprehension when I sit weepy-eyed, discussing racism in a class. What place do tears have in a scholarly discussion? When I sit sniffling with my children in front of the television, watching the "Feed the Children" infomercial, I can take comfort in the fact that I am allowed to feel sympathy and regret at these images. After all, my hormones won’t let me get by with being just a casual observer. That emotional control which society so values and encourages can be thrown aside for a few uninhibited days. I can show how I feel, and if anybody asks, I can say, "Oh, it’s just PMS."

Forced Wallowing

I try not to wallow in the past, try not to have any regrets. But sometimes, something triggers a flashback.

Time Warp

It creeps up when least expected
And – BAM! – a sucker-punch to the brain.
Cringing, pulling away.
Unh! Where did this come from?
Unrelated to the now
A sudden fracture in time.
Dragged through the portal to act it out again
There, in that when, as surely as she is here now.
One second a woman,
The next, a teen in a moment of utter humiliation
Or a five-year-old crying in shame
Or a twenty-year-old biting her tongue too late.
Then sucked back into the present, shuddering.
Safe harbor after time-travel.

P.S. The fibromyalgia study didn't pan out.

Things to Do: Be More Socially Relevant

I am feeling a bit guilty that my blog has turned out to be more of a personal journal, self-analyzing, home-therapy type than a socio-political commentary on the state of our world. This is what comes from using my poetry as a springboard for my comments, I suppose.

However, recent events - specifically the possibility of having an African American candidate for President in the general election - have me thinking about ethnic conflict in America. I mean, sad as it is, it still exists. Some people still hold on to the notion that different means inferior. Get it through your heads people: each of us is different, but we are all human! The thought that some people cannot grasp this sometimes sends me to the brink of despair. I, however, still have hope that we (humanity) can get beyond this. I doubt that I'll live to see it, but I do believe it will happen. Can't say the same for everyone else, though.

Never Say Never

I refuse
I reject
The brick wall of never.

Never
Word of terrible weight
Depressing, strangling
Barrier to possibilities.
Never brings tears to eyes
Hopelessness to hearts
Shrivels belief
Kills promise.

I prefer
I embrace
Not in my lifetime
or
Not in the foreseeable future
or
Not until human hearts can be open.

Never is eternal
Guilt and regret
The sins of the parents
Visited on the sons and daughters
The nation
In perpetuity.

Give me a someday
A brilliant future
Of hope, light, and harmony.

But I will never accept never.