Talking about this very concept, idea, led to a mass Marcela un-friending, online and in-human, a few years ago. Even following lengthy and meticulously laborious explanation and clarification on my part, these folks continued to deliberately misinterpret pretty much every word I articulated/wrote, and to convince themselves and others, that I was co-signing, excusing, or even welcoming nasty/brutal life events, acts of rape and other violence and vileness that had occurred/been perpetrated against my (or others’) person, physically, emotionally, psychologically, culturally speaking. Things are not as black and white as, if I don’t hate it, I must love it. Drives me crazy, this kind of thinking. We live in living colour, in the grey areas, in the pastels and neons, we travel on goat trails, detours, derailments and on hair-pin turns, but people insist on thinking in terms of black and white, and on linear highways. I do not miss said (un)friends. Not even for a second, but the memory of it all still breaks my a heart a little. Fortunately, I have people in my life today, who get what I was/am putting down in relation to this train of thought and its (positive) impact, on my person and life.
~M.
Posted by ~MyLa | Filed under Commentaries: On what matters to me, My World(s), Unfettered
Remnants
Like an old flag in the wind,
tattered remnants of fear,
flap relentlessly,
in the recesses of my heart and mind;
denounce and decry my worthiness of,
the unorthodox life I crave.
Whispers the fearless wild-child inside,
“…burn the flag woman, burn the flag.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With thoughts of my maternal grandmother, Žofie Schlosser Ševčíková,
June 06, 1911 – November 17, 1995.
She was inordinately dignified and quite literally worked her fingers to
the bone for my mother and her. She did it while standing up to,
and then leaving (unheard of at that time), a violently abusive,
alcoholic husband. She did it during a time in war-torn Eastern Europe
most of us cannot fathom, no matter how many history books we profess
to have read. She was profoundly gifted in languages,and well-read.
She toiled with her tiny body and life-worn hands,in a way we, of more
recent generations cannot know. One of the things I remember most about
her is the importance to her, of quality, in everything. And I wonder,
knowing what I know about the drudgery, the losses, the sacrifices that
were the bulk of her life, I wonder, given the opportunity to ask her
about what she would have done differently, had she the chance to be
anyone,to do anything,she desired,what that would have been.
I am anxious this day,and she came to my mind.
She was born 107 years ago. A mere blip on the radar of our Universe,
not known to most, but remembered well, by me and my mama,her daughter,
this day.
~Marcela: tattered in the process of (more, always more,) unfurling.
Writing: All Rights Reserved / Image: Google Search
June 06, 2018
As I pluck, the stray hairs from my face,
I try to ponder with some grace,
this crazy thing, called Aging.
As I take my locks, from gold to dark,
With silver strands just for the lark,
I smile, for I have Lived.
As I view the lines on this visage,
every day is vernissage,
and mostly, I care Not.
And as I judge this culture, youth obsessed,
no more couth do I possess,
than (T)rump-a-dump, himself.
In this world, where absurd is King,
I wag and wonder at this thing,
the phenomena, of Stupid.
We're teaching children, to regurgitate,
are raising mindless reprobates,
in bubble-wrapped, Entitlement.
I yell at them, to read a book,
get your brains back off that fuckin hook,
you call a life, on-line.
And as I sit, with 56.5
I rejoice the years I am alive
Live(d) and Love(d), with frenzied fire’n Passion
A youthful spirit, in its tweens
the wise chick in me hears’n gleans
that this body, doth Protest!
In recent words, to my well-(b)read child
I spoke of this my big wild ride,
and uttered this, fair Warning:
If tomorrow, I should die,
know that my life was not all pie,
but holy fuck me, what a Ride!
Lose no tear, for my time lost here,
I sped through akin to Buzz Lightyear,
had no time, to sweat the small Stuff!
No such burden, as regret,
for NO dull moment did beget,
a single breath, I Took!
And so I enter, this next phase,
In a blur of crazy-dayz,
and with electrifying, Verve!
I ought to warn, you faint-of-hearts,
my new grand plan will have no chart,
to map out how this goes!
So if you love me, in all my glory,
you will know that this next folly,
will be, of proportions Epic!
BOOM.
FALLOUT.
AFTERSHOCK.
SPLASH.
SMILE’n WAVE,
like the Queen I am.
Quack-a-fucking-doodle-dizzy and with a brand new energy,
for an old(er) chick!
~Marcela.
October 21, 2017
Photos and Poetry: All Rights Reserved.
