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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

I live the life of  two-spirited medicine in my sanctuarya little room on top of a little desert hill covered by fragrant pine, where cacti stand like guardians under the relentless New Mexican sun.   The silent pulse of the desert swirls around me in mute waves of tawny beige.   I peer at the sky through the  window of my lonely  sanctuary, and see hope, like an airy cumulus cloud, drift overhead, just out of reach.  A dark, sad princess, I gaze across this familiar sea of isolation , and dream of  another life a utopian dream world, that, unlike this place, celebrates diversity and human potential.    Lost in the stark contradiction, I  turn my attention to the gaping, gray-black  maw of my computer monitor, where a dim silhouette mocks me.

I move in a little closer, as if looking for clues to mystery of my self.   Instead, I find a stranger who knows only confusion and dissonance that arise from a life unfulfilled, a life deniedmy humanity like the contents of an empty, odd shaped bowl .   With every encounter my perception is confirmed: I do not  belong here. I am  not a part of this life  Excommunicated by silent decree, I am disallowed, denied, refused, rejected, vilified, condemned, used, abused, then flung upon the garbage heap of life and scattered by the winds of a world gone mad

Though I am passionate and full of fire for the oppressed of the world, I walk this tortured path alone. I dangle at the end of a hangman’s noose,  and sear in the afternoon sun, while the persecuted masses of the world turn away . The fire in my heart consumes me and my blood drips into the ashes of their collective apathy. My spirit blazes while my bones turn to water at the possibility that I will die before I am heard.

In a dream, I float outside of the bubble of society, where ‘normal’ life seems to go on as it will.   Sadly floating as a dark specter just outside the glass wall of life, I see people of many colors, old and young people, married and single, children laughing and playing. People with jobs, families and friends. With hopes and dreams, jobs and goals, self respect and a sense of community. Outside the bubble there is only me and my sense of exile. Furiously I pound and wail, scream and pound some more. But I alone am invisible and no one hears me. No one witnesses my dissolution, as  I am borne away on a veil of tears

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