in response to a bad gym experience...

I am learning what acceptance means. It is good. And sometimes, ironically, it means fighting other voices. Good is where I am now. And where you are now. There is nothing we are waiting for.

So I share here two poems:

The Call*
by Greta Schumm

We are
to be
the mannequins

thin, mute,
and haughty

set before windows
to be seen
marveled at
appreciated

locked
where spots of anchored light
will fall.

Somewhere alone
wanders
the woman in me
far away from the dollar toys
and dull of window eyes.

Come along,
come along
New-born.
I have room for you
in the soul of one person singing.

(Written with special affection for
Queen Vashti of Esther 1:10-22)


And

Pedestal
by Margaret House Rush

Even if a prison
Is called a pedestal
And is bedecked with flowers
and flattery,
It is no less confining,
or demeaning.

*I don't often feel this way. There aren't a lot of voices that send me these kinds of messages. This is perhaps one of the many reasons I'm glad I don't watch TV. Perhaps this is why I noticed so much.