"Poetry preserves the story – Poetry stimulates the soul – Poetry provokes the mind" – Michele Cox Spivey
A beacon of light for the weary at sea.
The GPS for the maritime.
A Fresnel lens beaming brightly amongst the deep thick fog of the night.
The heaviness of the torrid waters.
A seafarer’s vision through darkness.
the narrow direction dear Ma’ma prayed for you, as she kneeled each sunrise before Saint Joseph….
or the direct route of our family tragic war boots….
or the steady dependence upon anyone or everyone….
or the avenue of all that shines and glitters….
or the unusual pathway of your vivid daydreams….
the gracefulness of words enveloped into a portrait of capture
a dialect, unfamiliar and foreign
yet with emotion of abandonment tucked in the thorns of my soul,
I recite each line
“Me….don’t know you but willing.”
“You….say, you know me….but no.”
HATE….it is a volatile fuel that indeed can surge as high as the gentle blue sky
HATE….a foul emotion which can destroy the innocent
HATE….the discrimination language of abomination
HATE….it is an ideology based on the matter of pre-judgement
HATE….it is a learned behavior….it must be taught by someone or something….as we are all born into the world naturally with love beating through our tender hearts
HATE….cries in pain….moans through fear….and loosely engages vile
With red lipstick or blue
Jet black hair or gray
A long wool skirt or skinny jeans
President of a major corporation or currently unemployed
Democrat or Republican
Classical music lover or country western fan
Single or a wife with four children
Shattered pieces or a forceful storm
We are the core for some
We are the nucleus for many
We are the love for all
Maria Diaz, An Intimate Portrait of a Single Mother
I became a single mother, for the first time, at the age of 15.
I became a single mother, for the second time, at the age of 16.
I became a single mother, for the third time,
Goodbye Mother, goodbye.
As I stand in front of your coffin, high black gloss with chrome trim, just as you requested, I say
All of the people are long gone.
The priest recited the Lord’s Prayer, just as you requested.
I am a 4th grade teacher….
25 minutes of group reading
30 minutes of constant discipline
20 minutes of intense writing
25 minutes of trying to keep the class quiet
yet the scores are of the utmost importance….