Swirling, howling, blasting
the wind beats at the door
Shutters shudder, clinging
to their perch, and
door holds the line
while chill infiltrates
the weak spots where
seals just can’t hold out
Windows withstand the onslaught
though their groans slip
between their panes
And in the dark,
fading certainty
trembling bravado
and the fearful hollow
where confidence once
had flamed
-KJ Roe
She watched as the ghostly bodies floated, gracefully pulling in on themselves and then pushing out, a stretch against the engulfing press of water. Sliding between forms, from widely-blooming flower to deeply-rounded bowl to mushroom cap, decorated with the fringe of numerous tiny tentacles. Some appeared content to simply rise on the upward current; others moved in some unknowable dance, gliding into one another, slipping past, each briefly molding itself according to its nearest partner. Their bodies glowed, ethereal and translucent in this inky Neptunian ballroom. She wished that, for just one moment, she could feel such grace lighting her own limbs, giving life to the beauty that ached within her soul.
-KJ Roe
The door is open,
I must escape
There is no time,
it cannot wait
Must leave this cage
of pens and files
where blood is spilt
in red-tape miles
Duck under threat
of deadline siege
and outrun duty’s
ravenous needs
Break free from
tightened daily chains
expectation’s gnawing
strain
I must run free where
Nature Reigns
Stretch out with my
arms flung wide
where breath can
truly breathe
I must look far at tops of trees
and mountain peaks
and wild things
hear the calls of birds
and streams
taste the fresh
in evergreen breeze
inhale heavy
mossy scents
as ancient rumbled
dirt is spent
in lines between
my toes
The lure of green
and brown and blue
and all the rainbow’s
many hues
hails with need
I can’t refuse
There is no time,
it cannot wait
for in the wilds
my heart awaits.
-KJ Roe
The glow of warm lights
wraps its arms around
traveler and couple
and quiet dreamer
gazing out
at the flurries, the
same in their shade
and in their cold
and in their errant,
erratic, swirling descent
toward frozen ground
The variety of their paths
a feast to those who look,
intricacies of their individual
shapes noted by the dedicated
and the patient and the
ones who look deep,
infinitely different,
Infinitely beautiful,
each one a fingerprint
of its own faithful
hopes, dreams of
drift or tree-lace
or child’s laughing
snowball-fight screams
Evidence of their
numbers piling up
in hills and cakes, covering
roofs and transforming
landscapes into a
new sort of world
where the magic
of wonder and the
power of love
illuminate
the darkness,
where hearts hold
no malice,
where brother
recognizes brother,
no matter his shape
no matter his shade
Snowflakes dancing,
drifting, bumping
their way through a life of
indescribable
Beauty and
unpredictable winds,
and the shapes we make
as we come together
become
the picture of our legacy
before our bodies
melt into the land
-KJ Roe
You, with your false-advertising
big, soft eyes
like the cat on that ogre movie
who blinks slowly
attacks quickly
and a person never knows
what they’re dealing with.
You, who bullied the
other cats and even
the dogs
and guarded food bowls
like they were your own
personal
dragon’s gold.
Who thought the entire house was
your
territory
and marked it so,
till I threatened you with
pounds and other homes and
dark ends – and you
retaliated with fragrant
offerings under my bed.
And just when patience slid
howling to the depths,
purring, rubbing, fuzzy
grey innocence
pooled
itself in my lap,
or stood on my chest
trying to kiss me awake,
instinctively manipulating this
tangled ball of love-hate.
And I would have gladly
given you to a good home
until the vet said the words.
Even then, I couldn’t
abandon you,
even knowing all the
crap you pulled.
And in the end,
you still won, because
your last memories were
my hands
in your fluffy, falling-out, charcoal fur
salt water dripping on your face
and a mountain of tissues on the medical table.
I didn’t even like you.
-KJ Roe
Spokes of the wagon wheel
now ghosts in a metal ring
Tales of travels told
left to rust in tangled weeds
Voice of experience
from which we take our leave
Close our eyes, numb our minds
Rewrite the chronicles
we don’t like to see
The lessons learned, lessons lost
In the bars on the windows
and the numbers on the charts
In the scuffed linoleum tiles
where one must pace the miles
In the creases of hands
grown clawed and still
In furrowed brow’s confusion
above eyes blank
with memory, discounted
In the pairings of shoulders
upholding caskets
Lined with truths
and Fahrenheit ashes
Orwellian, Shakespearean
Burnt spines of
Silverstein, Hemingway and Twain
Volcanic gods of affected outrage
and querulous uniformity
demand the ink-blood of
Lewis, and Henkes, of Morrison, and
of dear, sweet Wilder
Condolences offered as delicacies
at the harrowed caricature
of reception
– wedding or wake?
Guests can’t sign the book
when the pages curl
in flames of offense licking
bindings of hypocrisy
The lines become empty
in the history of a past
so easily forgotten
-KJ Roe
Soft and pliant
No shield
No boundaries
No protections
Now hidden, now enwrapped
As a being ensorcelled
Cocooned in layers
A chrysalis of experiences
Of losses
And breakings
And shatterings
Now emerging, now changed
A creature unexpected
Broken from layers
A freedom of scars
– They didn’t warn of the pain.
-KJ Roe
The memories drift back
as I gaze at your lines
A crowd of thoughts
sparked by the shape of you
Moments left behind
in the dust of time and
dim remembrance
A rainbow of hues
stack upon stack
Or flung in bright
disarray, like wildflowers
In a field of gentle
reminders, each one
Bumping into another,
vying for recognition, to be
Plucked from the motley
throng, rewarded at last by
A touch, an engulfing grasp,
a soaring flight
into sticky note heaven.
-KJ Roe
Here is my first, and probably only, political post for the season. I generally stay out of things because the divisiveness and mud-slinging that not only politicians, but people in general, engage in goes against my believe-the-best nature and grates on my soul.
But today, I saw a post from a person I know that has been weighing on me. The post said that how you vote today reveals the kind of person you are when no one is looking.
This saddens me. To me, this says, I know who you are. I’ve talked with you, hung out with you, worked with you, whatever – but none of that really matters. Because, actually, I’m going to judge you based on which rhetoric and advertising campaign you believe. Regardless of what I’ve experienced directly with you, regardless of what I’ve observed with my own eyes and felt with my own heart, it all boils down to what I believe *you* should believe about a convoluted and, at best, cloudy, at worst, dishonest and self-serving monster of a political system. That a *system* is more important than the person I know you to be. That, even if I’ve seen you volunteering at soup kitchens or offering food to the homeless, or if I’ve seen you giving time to help veterans, or coordinating activities for the elderly, it all really comes down to the ovals you fill out on a piece if cardstock.
Who a person votes for, or even whether they vote, should not be the deciding factor in how you look at someone. If you vote, do your research. Know, as well as you can, what you are supporting, and choose based on what you believe to be best. That’s the beauty of voting – you don’t *have * to believe and vote the same as your friends or your spouse or some random person in the next booth. And they don’t have to vote the same as you. Judging one another based on fluctuating lines of a theatrical political system increases the division between us all and fragments the beauty of our differences.
This world is Orwellian and beautiful at the same time, and we are all just people trying to make it through as best as we can. There is good and bad in each of us; hopefully we nurture the good, overcome the bad, and learn from our mistakes. Hopefully we do our best, are honest, and show kindness and consideration to those we meet. Every day.
Ovals on a paper don’t define you. You do, by your actions and how you treat people. Regardless of what day it is.
-KJ Roe
People say that
it’s better to be strong
to be independent
to know there are no
promises
and to rely on
yourself
because they’re going to
let you down
anyway.
They tell you to
build your own life
hold your head up high
and to always
be ready
to strike out on
your own.
And I will.
I will be strong
and hold my head up high
and build
my own life
But this is how
I’ll do it:
Reach out my hands
with the amber light
of friendship
Plant the seeds for
emerald new
adventures
I’ll stop and stare
at brilliant orange
sunsets
Feel the violet sorrow
of the heartbreaks
and know that
I’m alive
I’ll drink the
calming blue
of the sea
Ask the questions
of a thousand
stories
Release the laughter
bursting
in my chest
Sing the melodies
dancing
in my veins
I will open my heart
to the radiant
beauty
of this world
and build a life of
magnificent
fullness
in gratitude’s
vivid freedom
-KJ Roe
Dreams of Shadow and Light 