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.

_______________________________________

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