Friday, April 14, 2017

NaWriPoMo #19 & #20 Civility and Certainty

I listened intently to a person
Describing to me a tumor
That had grown inside them
For who knows how long
And when they went in for
One sharpish pain to the doctor
They were immeadiatly shipped off
To get it removed because
It was so very large
I thought, “How can that be?”
“I would certainly know if
Something was growing
On the inside
Pushing and covering
What should work
So much better.”
But no, do I know
If something is growing
Gaining ground while it grows?
Or do I look down one day
Discovering that gained twenty pounds
Wondering how it got there overnight?
I know it wasn’t overnight,
But it sure seems like it
Is that how evil engulfs us?
From the inside,
Silently growing
From a slight sarcasm
To brash rudeness
To accosting people verbally
And pushing them down
to killing them with word and deed?
No matter that we are not
Familiar with them
Or their circumstances
Or beliefs or anything really
We have gone to knowing
To allowing this growth
To dictate how we function
Because it has taken over
Our vital organ
Our hearts

Pouring Out the Power
“Brandy wine,” she said
“My mother only sipped it once,
But that is all it took to
Call me after it.”
I didn’t know if to believe
This toothless wizened
Slip of a woman
Who’s laugh was a cackle
Cracking her cheeks
With a laugh smile
That broke through the clouds
Of my gloom as a child
I remember her smell
Was minty and scrubbed salt
With a hint of rubbing alcohol
Like every morning she was
Rubbed down in the stuff
Like a prize fighter
After a hard few rounds
But no she believed
It would keep her skin
Clean and safe from
Anything that would
Want to stay with her
And cause her harm
She scrubbed herself
Whole again it seemed
She’d pass me a butter mint
Stolen from a recent wedding
Of her hundred children
Grandchildren, nieces, and nephews
All adopted on these steps
The front porch where she told me
And other children that clattered in and out,
The stories of her origin and her name
And I would drink it up
Toasting Miss Brandy.
With her kind eyes,
That crinkled at the corners
Squinting so hard
To see what I needed
Without a word she’d be talking
And hand me cold water
Or on a hot day a frozen banana,
She taught me to light a stove in the winter
And I’d go home Smokey
Like I’d been camping
Enjoying the smell that
Never was part of my house
At Easter tide I think of her
As my amaryllis gets ready to bloom
Big and full as she was
She always had one in a pot
Growing in her kitchen
And it was an event
Wondering when it would burst
Into flower, and she’d crow
That it was an angel’s umbrella
Made to cover them
From the spring storms
“It is shaped like a trumpet see?”,
She’d point out
Tracing the blossom
with her shaking hand
“These flowers stood at Jesus’ grave,
To proclaim his resurrection.
They are trumpets that cannot be silenced!”
She stood by her flower marveling
In the beauty of it all.

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