Welcome, and a warm first hello to the newcomers!
I’m so happy you’re here.
Each of these Sunday poems center loosely around a tarot card, and this week we’re checking in with the Devil.
This card reminds me that I’m going to encounter some limits in life, but how I respond to them is my decision.
Contents:
Stupid Long, Stupid High
Let Us Rise (revised version)
STUPID LONG, STUPID HIGH My spine hurts. I’m not supposed to let that hold me back. I do as much as I can, Which is never the same as, Or as much as, What I wish my body could do. I think I've almost accepted that. I want to wait in stupid long lines for viral food trends, Because the hours spent standing there, Shuffling slowly forward, Are the hours when friendships get mortared into place. I want to go on stupid long road trips, Just for the sake of seeing the World’s Largest Whatever-The-Fuck, Because the conversation that happens side by side Is sometimes more honest than the one that happens eye to eye. I want to shop for stupid high heels with no arch support, The ones that coach me into bunions, The ones that assure everyone around that I’m not too intimidating, I’m not to be feared, I can’t outrun you, Because when I could stand to wear them, The world treated me better, Like I was a gift. But these days, My spine hurts, And I just don’t have any time for that shit.
LET US RISE We all just want to see the sky: The noon-glare and the full moon at midnight. I was taught to observe by wiser kin. I lived for too long as flattened land, And learned too well the sound of hungry wind. Today, I’m trending rubenesque, All glacier-rounded mountains where the air is crisp and fresh. An ancient black cat sits on my soft lap: To hold our elders safe is privilege. We all deserve a shot to see the sky, To marvel at white bridal veils as they drift by. The news tells me that dictators are building camps, But: “Not to worry, little girl, Only the very worst will be so damned.” Good sir, Do you mean the ones who got trapped Between Death’s robe And taking a chance? We all just want to stroll and sniff the wind: Today, I smelled the air and there was fearful blood within. Remember the pictures from back in the day, When we got scared after 9/11 And folks disappeared to Guantanamo Bay? I saw ruined and bruised faces, I saw gaunt and rubbed-raw wrists. Surely, This time, We can do better than that shit. We all just want a shot to rise, Unmolested by bizarre jealousies, No one protesting because we exist, Nothing in the air but the perfume of bodies, Witnessed by nothing but soft and loving eyes. We all just want to breathe: Lungs that have done no crime will find their ease. My generation was supposed to be the future, But the past wouldn’t step aside, wouldn’t die, And it’s wonderful that they’re all still here, But they won’t make room for us. Why not build our families homes instead of camps? Why not give us a fighting chance? We wanted to do more, We wanted to succeed, We took a look at the state of the world and we all got IUDs. We’ve been trying, for decades now, to get up off our knees. We all deserve a shot to love the sky. Please, just let us rise.
Did you know I have a podcast now? Check out the latest episode:
Go Lizzy. Dump the damn heels. That was a ruse from the beginning. Let your spine heal.
You're on to something good with your writing. A combination of powerful statements and beautiful observations keep at it as I'm sure you will love it.