Just bitchin', Uncategorized

#Ukraine and The Words We Think

Countless images of heartbreak and horror are burned into my memory  as Russia’s war against Ukraine continues.

A woman weeping over the bloodied corpse of her dog, killed by Russian artillery as they went for their morning walk.

A child in an underground shelter standing before others also in hiding, singing a song from the movie Frozen. The one with the brave, defiant lyrics “Here I stand and here I’ll stay. Let the storm rage on. Cold never bothered me anyway.”

Bodies abandoned along streets. A smear of red where once there was a head.

My sympathy has changed to white-hot rage.

It isn’t enough to decry the death and damage inflicted on people who had no voice in the inception of Russia’s war, Putin’s war. But for one man’s greed, one man who sits at a safe distance, all this could have been avoided.

And now that man is joined by a United States president and his cowardly cohorts.

For the first time in history, the U.S. stands with the dictator, the aggressor, the slayer of Democracy.

And my rage is overwhelming. I, who had always said that, no matter who holds it, the title of President of the United States commands respect have nothing but loathing to offer.

Everyone keeps saying “Don’t speak out. You’ll get in trouble. None of us can say what we really think.”

Done with that.

I have no way of stopping any person or event. I am far away and devoid of resources. But I won’t be quiet anymore.

I want Trump’s flesh flayed from his bones and fed to dogs starving and abandoned in war-ravaged streets.

I want a coup like that of January 6, 2021. But I want it to succeed in routing out the vermin who support Trump and Putin. I want that scaffold he intended for Mike Pence re-erected.

I want Trump to wear that noose.

I resent the hate and anger he has incited in me.

Two bullets might have spared Ukraine and the world so much. A horrid thought I had never believed would be mine.

Is it too late?

Are we angry enough yet?

Have we lost enough yet?

Silence is not an option. Protests and demonstrations are tools of a bygone era. We need new ammunition to stop what is happening.

What weapon will we choose?

All I have are words.

Standard
Just bitchin', poem, Uncategorized, writing

Noted

Upon death, you decompose.

Previously, you were composed.

A composition.

Something pieced you together, note by note.

Each note placed just…so.

A part of the symphony.

You were orchestrated.

Are you an echo?

Perhaps a variation on a theme.

Will anyone hear you?

At best, you are a sonata of unknown duration.

Noted.

Standard
Uncategorized

Goodbye, Melinda…

melindascrows

She was an artist.

Her work extended to jewelry, costumes, painting. She had a way of expressing her spirit, imbuing her work with it, that rendered her soul accessible.

That is the apex, the epitome of an artist’s goal. It takes courage and talent.

I met her in a jewelry store some years ago. Her husband is a jeweler. They found each other through the creation of her art. Her life was like that: following and defined by her ability to create.

A strange feeling I’ve learned to recognize had been haunting me since mid-December. But life and obligations and duties and necessities distract one from following up on these psychic blips that one never mentions…that one keeps secret because they invariably prove true and intensely private.

But today I gritted my teeth and followed the indefinable promptings.

I found her.

She died. Mid-December. Unexpectedly.

Of all the people I’ve encountered in my life, she was one of the two I can say I envied. In my lexicon there is a difference between jealousy and envy. Jealousy has a tinge of hostility. Envy is a tribute.

So this is my farewell and tribute to a gentle spirit and a beautiful soul.

Melinda Mary Rogers Cowdery…artist.

Thank you for sharing your art and your spirit.

melinda

Standard