New Broom
I see Her beauty raw.
The praise I write
illuminates my days.
Each breath gives back
the wonder of my life
with ardent thanks:
I want to share my awe.
But when I rant
I hope someone will see
patriarchy:
crass opposite of ecstasy,
fear-mongering lies,
greedy hypocrisy,
worship of man-made death
fear of reality,
fear of the feminine.
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Roll them into one big ball of wax,
the quacks,
and call them patriacks!
Push them away, today’s the day,
into a dusty corner
till spring cleaning some other year
(Why do the womben
always clean up the mess?)
to clear a space for breath,
a space for dancing! Yes!
_______________________________
Poetry! Let all but Unity
be blown away non-violently, with glee,
with every fearless breath.
_____________________________________________
She is a gem this One!
So lucky to find Her!
All the clutter
I thought made sense
crumbles ridiculous
before Her rainbow broom,
Her hurricane laughter sweeping.
What will be left
after this whirlwind purge?
Only life and joy,
flirting surprise of hope,
skeleton honesty
in graceful spiral dance.
© Tamara Rasmussen 2018