Throwback

It’s interesting
Not having seen myself through the eyes of dismissal in a while
Rediscovering the faux-concerned face
The wince of denial
The condescending voice and syrupy tone that assured me:
“No, you can’t. You couldn’t possibly. You’re just
Not
Capable.”
Recently, I watched that happen
Recognized it for what it was – a smackdown –
Laughed inside
And denied *them* that power
By saying softly,
“Well.
Watch me.”

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell

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Here in the place of my youth (2)

Here in the place of my youth
My muscles unknot
Joints easing spine lengthening brow unfolding like a lotus
Years running off me like rainwater –
Brain quicksilver and fertile
Adult teeth dormant, actors waiting in the wings
Feet flashing and chubby legs pumping
Lungs full of bright air
As I run, joyous,
From one kingdom to another
Here the queen
There the jester
Another, the destrier with silken mane and flared nostrils
    who goes, noble, to defeat or victory
Leaping forward and on until the dusk,
That quiet shepherd of my days,
Herds me gently towards home
Under streetlights waking one by one
Along cooling pavement
Past cars, ticking and settling as they shed the day’s exertions
Slower now, feet dragging
Limbs weighted with the beginning of weariness
Watching the blinking dance of fireflies
Smelling the grassy, cooling earth
Hearing other screen doors slam behind their charges
Then quickly, propelled by the warning whine of mosquitos,
I slip through the door and pull it shut
And arrive, a stranger
    with the scent of the wild world still on me
Into this pocket of yellow lamplight
And laughter
And the warm smell of dinner curling
Like a halo
About my head.

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell

Not A Tributary

There are times in life
Doorways
Or portals
When life changes
When the unthinkable
Becomes thinkable
Then understandable
And even palatable
When we discover grace
In the face of change
As I linger in bed this morning
I am considering the many portals
That I strode through
Or tripped through
Or was pushed through
Unknowing and alone
And I hope that now, in this phase of my journey
I can see the signposts when I pass them
And can align myself to travel through them
Squarely
Eyes ahead
Arms and legs tucked in
To avoid bumping the doorjamb
Fluid
Streamlined
Jettisoning baggage as I go
Once again, I am not aligned with others on the path
Once again, I am not feeling the same emotions they are
Once again, I feel that I am at a different event, hearing different music
And I have a new thought: that I am my own fish
Swimming in my own stream.
Perhaps it’s ok that my stream doesn’t join the ocean.

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell