V Day 2014

Yesterday

Transforming Hallmark Valentine Day into Victory for Vagina Day

We sang, surfed, danced and digitalized

To a tricky, troubled watery, snowy, icy world, full of rolling clouds and manifest bluster, the close edge of climate change upon us

Today

The winds blow on, remembering Peter Postlethwaite’s gift of himself in the film Stupid, reading Doris Lessing’s Time Bites

I wonder, with all my wise friends, poised to serve as needs must, about

Tomorrow

Though NOW reigns paramount

Snowdrops accumulate, daffodils dare, earth turns, people die, babies are born, humans a blip in cosmic time

I cling to hope

As we turn Valentine’s Day into Victory Against Violence—somewhere, a woman will not be wounded, a girl not be violated, a brother stands beside his sister, her friend in deed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

inspiration

Inspiration

In this winter of discontent

Fails

 

Even the prospect

Of Yellowstone erupting

Fails

 

Only inner life

Is bright

With promise

 

Trolling through news

Facebook and email

No news is good news

 

Only the angels

Singing on earth

The real ones

 

Age brings more meaning

More insight

More

 

The passing of time

A Big Illusion

To keep us busy in the mundane

 

The long corridor

The deep hall of mirrors

Only that shines

 

But this is what winter is for

To hibernate into self

Growth

 

 

 

Days of The Dead

 

Ed: 17 November 2013

I did fear to speak of Death

In this Time of Dying

Though needs must

 

Turning inward

The world dies outward

Leaves curl and crumble

 

Brother Ian, Samhain Eve

Highland Ancestors awaiting

Pipes playing

 

He spoke of beings in white

But they had always been his guides

 

Four years on

Mother Florence followed

Him through

 

She said: ‘It is hard, this dying’

But then she had a lust for life

 

The Bright Portal

In a dark November

Now, another four

 

Passed

I count them out

As they leave us

 

Lucia of Avalon taking her leonine flame

Higher

Lady Olivia, Wonder Woman for The Goddess

 

And today, as the sun rose

Bright Soul of the Golden Notebook

Our Nobel Goddess Doris

 

Who said all women were feminists,

But she would, wouldn’t she?

 

I do fear to talk of Death

Though ageing assures

More must follow

 

Meantime

In Syria and the Philippines

Death is a Way of Life

 

I wondered about

Death Having No Dominion

No platitudes suffice, no poetic easy ending

 

When friends die

It hurts

We die a little more

 

It doesn’t matter how many die

Before or after us

But I count them through

 

That Bright Gate on The Beach

In India, years ago, whence

I returned, alive, with more to do

 

Methought an angel stood

Barring the way

My daughter’s face called me back

 

These are The Days for The Dead

Remember to remember

It is the Only Way Through

 

But fear to talk of Death

It is

A wise undertaking

 

I Will Miss–Salamanca

I will miss
the sunsets across the hills I never walked to
the wild shoreline of Spain I never saw

the smiles of young volunteers glowing orange
the hugs and laughter with Laura and Leticia

the conversatione with Bob and DAR and Jokin and Alan and Dana
the midnite meals around candlelight, a glass of white at end of day

the honeystone of The Salamanca Body
the old men and women walking out at night, holding hands against the darkness

the smell of the civil war beneath the polite exchange
the classy brown skinned gals in bright leggings

the blue sky the bright sun the good times
Sandra’s and Yvonne’s reassuring presence
Julie Cajune’s Salish Womanhood alive in her Aunt Florence

I won’t miss
the egos, scent of glamour and the sad end of humanity forecast
in the dying species, every 8 hours one rhino down

but then again
the Fight is On and We Have No Choice But To Persevere
as did our Ancestors as they walked out of Africa

Great Aunt Alice: in Memoriam for My Friend Ann’s Aunt Who is being Remembered in a Special Service April 27th 2013 in Pennsylvania USA

Great Aunt Alice

For Alice Lillian Carlson nee Retzlaff

January 4, 1907-October 2, 2012

By Ann’s friend Leona Alice-Mae Graham

 

I felt

I knew

Ann’s Aunt Alice.

 

Through the years

Her-stories came my way.

I wish we’d met.

 

But we did

In a way,

A woman after my own heart:

 

Indefatigable.

Independent.

Inspiring.

 

Through Ann’s eyes

I knew you, Alice,

Admired and aspired

 

To emulate you in my old age.

After all, I am an Alice too,

As was my father’s mother.

 

The world, our life,

Has been our wonderland,

Our looking-glass.

 

Alert and wise

You made Ann’s days wonderful,

All the lives you touched,

 

Even at a distance,

Like mine.

I hope it’s okay to call you

 

Great Aunt Alice

In memory of a life greatly,

Nobly, powerfully lived.

International Women’s Day: rise up, never give up, we stand on our fore-mothers’ shoulders…

V-Day and W-Day meet in my mind

we sing one song, a hymn to a future without violence to girls and women

a joyful tune of tomorrow

our species walks in wisdom, dances with wolves, runs with the cheetah

we are ready now for all men to lay down their arms and be for us

making love the norm

we stand on our fore-mothers’ shoulders, we owe them this at least, to rise up, never give up

when we do this, the crack in the cosmic egg happens and a new world is born

Pictured below: my mother, Florence Boyd-Graham, 1913-2009

FloOct09Stratford09

V-Day: Rising Here at Home

14 February 2013

Here At Home
All is quiet
On the one billionth doorstep

But I can hear them in the distance
Demanding freedom from violence
Celebrating hope despite the danger

The right to walk streets
Without fear of rape
A determination to right wrong

In Delhi they dance
In Manila they move
In Sydney they sing

All over the world
We are rising
Together

Sisters and brothers
Mothers and fathers
Wives and husbands

Women and men
Girls and boys
Gay and straight

The French Parliament
The Mayor of New York
Jane Fonda

There is much work to do
On Planet Earth
But the Time has Come

For this Cause.
Meantime, yes, we save the polar bears,
The humpback whales, the bees

And the sun shone on London town
Gaia spins her wheel
There’s not much time

As the spectre of climate change
Haunts our sleep
But maybe, just maybe

Good Spirits will walk the earth again
With us, High Magic will return,
Let us break the chains

To make it so