Category: Change

The News Went Straight to Her Waist

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Elsie was in such a rut. Doomscrolling was her go-to activity. Things changed with an e-mail. She’d won a weekend at a luxury spa. She woke in a fancy hotel, took a yoga class, and had donuts for breakfast with her personal trainer. 

The girl finished her yogurt. “Any trouble spots?”

Her tummy, always her tummy. The mound that amplified her waist had expanded recently. “I want a flatter stomach.” 

”You’re a stress eater.”

“How could you tell?”

The trainer said, “Your T-shirt.”

It said, “Hands off my junk food, you fascist.”

“We’ll start with your social media. Then, pilates.”

Seal Up Evil in a Wooden Box

The Robert A. Heinlein memorial award, in wooden box by Unknown maker is licensed under CC-BY-NC-SA 4.0

Pandora breathed in the garden’s verbena scent. She breathed out a spell to quiet the unicorn and summon the dragon, then she rubbed the genie’s lamp. From the ground, she pulled a box so ancient and filled with grievance that it groaned. 

It had taken centuries to master herself well enough to undo the past. She was ready, with help from her friends, to reverse the mistakes she’d made as an impetuous youth. The four  breathed wishes into the box.

It roiled. Disease, pestilence, greed, slavery, the evils of the world poured in and settled together. Pandora closed the box.

The New Orders

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Inside the church, Doris found a gift shop. A number of books, hats, mugs, and crypto coins stocked the shelves. A wizened old man sat at the counter. “Can I help you?”

Doris said, “Isn’t this the unemployment office?” 

“Everyone is employed. Everyone who wants to be.”

“I was laid off. They gave me this address.”

“What about a Bible? Our thoughts and prayers are in there.” His glassy stare put her off.

“Where can I pray, then?”

”Inside, to the right. There’s a soup kitchen in the basement, too. God be with you.”

The pews were empty, but the soup kitchen was full.

A Doggie Solution

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I had a lover and then we split. He wanted the dog. So did I. I won that fierce argument. The ex settled for visits.

The dog was a steady companion, a good judge of character. He loved us both and told us so with sloppy licks. He sniffed the air in that doggie way that senses tension, anger, sweet innocence. He buried the bones of contention so that we could be friends.

Doggie romped, played, distracted, comforted in the language of liquid eyes and soft tongue against tear stained cheeks. Stayed close, healing pain with sweet and kind attentiveness.

The End of Empire

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Haven’t you heard? The elder statesman is packing. 
Emperor Discord is prancing to Palatine Hill in a red toga. 
He’s promised bread and circuses. 
He’s planning a retro-empire Roman regime.

After the wall comes the coliseum. 
No need to go in person. See pictures on X. 
Read the retweets. Watch Fox trust, they will not verify. 
Comedians, prepare to roast.

The joke’s on us. All the bread is meant for the one percent. 
Even now, they’re pulling up the stakes on the circus tent. 
You’ll find the performers leaving at midnight on the gravy train. 
Ticket  price: unwavering, groveling loyalty.

Bring on the New Year

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Tables filled with tasty foods prepared by friends. The first potluck of the year is already a wild success. There’s news, of course. Travels to far away places. Lost elections; can we ever recover? Some might move. Probably not, though. Too many ties here. Look at this room, these people. They’ve known each other too long to cut and run.

There will be more adventures this new year. More books to read and hikes to take and nights around the television with the dogs snoring at their feet. Babies will be born. The world will grow older and maybe wiser.

Frost on the Roof

Photo by Peter Kessler
Crystal White sleeps through spring and summer. 
Tats fine lace on crisp fall days. In winter, an icy wraith,
She crusts roofs, coats bare branches.
Under deciduous trees, leaves clump, stiff to the ground. 

She casts a spell. Keeps me warm abed.
Reluctant to heed the call of morning’s light, I dream of fragrant gingerbread. 
Relaxed under a blanket, I peruse the glossy pages of a travel book.
A fire warms the room. The logs crumble to embers.

Resigned, I set aside all thoughts of reprieve. 
Dark days are coming, 
Winter before spring. 
Grim hiatus, but these trials will pass.

A Rainbow Future

Photo by Monica McHenney

The day before the election results come in, I’m anxious. I shuffle and create a spread, laying Tarot cards on the counter. The High Priestess represents my question. This card symbolizes divine law. The future is hidden, but intuition can be a flashlight in the dark. Which way to go? Towards integrity or expedience? It is an uneasy choice.

The Tower and the Ace of Wands (reversed) suggest a past where change has been postponed. We struggle to transform an outmoded system. It will take longer than one election cycle to develop the collective awareness required to come to consensus. In the short term, established institutions will remain in place.

How does one cope? The Hanged Man suggests a pause, a rebirth, and a reassertion of the feminine principle. Integration comes from a process of sifting facts, feelings, and thoughts together. Can we do it? The Six of Pentacles (reversed) points to money selfishly misused, an environment that must change. The Emperor is the X-factor, the unexpected outcome. The card represents rule by force under patriarchal institutions. If this is the election’s outcome, I hope we unite to change direction and reach for a different future under the rainbow card.

Who’s Going to Pick Your Vegetables When They Deport All the Immigrants? I Don’t See Any Proud Boys Lining Up.

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Immigrants are the lifeblood of America. They bring hope, energy, and optimism. Different languages and cultures enrich this country. We’re better together.

It’s a story that’s been told before. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “We all came in on different ships, but we’re all in the same boat now.” I heard it in a Malvina Reynolds song.

Most people don’t remember that song. The sentiment has drowned in a sea of anti-immigrant vitriol that’s threatening our most precious import.  And here you thought it was silicon chips or fast fashion. Don’t be fooled. We need a path, not a wall.

Throwing Stones

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A burley soldier shoved Hansel aside. The soldier had taken his father’s leather, paid nothing, and laughed when Hansel’s father said they’d starve if he made no shoes. The soldier said, “Old man, we fight for you.” 

Fight! But everyone wanted peace. Food and peace. Gretel, his sister, Jakob, his uncle, even his stepmother, though she gave no peace herself. Hansel stooped; straightened, stone in hand. In anger, he threw a rock at the swagger of a man. All of Hansel’s feelings, hopes, and fears flew with it. At the moment of impact, the world exploded into a forest path.