Spin A Good Yarn

There really is an old white

guy in the sky

watching, judging your upload

of data in your devout

twittering, posturing,

measuring the difference 10 years

carves on your features.  He asks

you to acquiesce to the pursuit

of a two-dimensional ideal

photoshopped version of you.

Always searching, just missing

the mark, where all hopes

are pinned.  Far away from

unbearable trauma

dogging you like a loyal pet.

I can do better.

I can learn new tricks.

Your ancestors have woven

a neat trap where you hang

helplessly in your want.

All the hidden power forgotten

like female names, the women in whose

wombs life surges.

As a last resort, you sit,

too weary to fight.

You notice these skeins

of connection glinting,

pointing a different direction,

the way of aches and wrinkles,

dissatisfaction all here

deeper into the pain —

No need, take these pills.

His voice droning like a sermon

you’ve been avoiding,

running towards some version

of how things would be if

you could only change.

And the women in your heart

lead you in this darkness

to the divine core.

You release the dream

to include

and allow yourself

to be here.

Inspired by a treasured 1912 photo of five generations of my ancestral lineage (and the awesome yarn art filter!) and Devout, Acquiesce, Resort and Note.