Amazon in Bohemian Clothes!

It does no good to look toward pain for, yet, another day.

It will await me either way.

IT will hold my hand, as it always does.

Making love to me with ITS vicious touch.

I will pay respect to the searing stab, as I always do.

I will allot transgressions…their due.


But I am a proud woman warrior in bohemian clothes.

And, as vague ability diminishes.

So shall my inner strength grow.

Any day,

when the battle between pain and I reunite…

I will go on fighting well into the night.

Splintered Cords of Wood

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The cord splintered in my hands.

As though it were Goliath…and, I, David.

Just a majestic Madam of being more than avid.

Lumbering in and out…

the muddy waters that held my feet…steady.

Dreams of yesterday’s strength…oh, so, petty.

A union of handmade scars requesting that I, now, rescind that myth.

My inner child pays homage to growth.

Such as, the rings on newly fallen trees.

A well built structure,

calls me to a new way home.

Leather-ed hands toil over acres of what I have yet to see.

Oh, but, those wet with humidity, afternoons, set my child free.

Always within the run of my blood…

But not so distant that the taste of wooden soil…

gently attracts.

Robust sawdust…

Pine shavings…

Protecting me, her, us.

Just a rural muscle still ahead of the curve.

The limbs of everyday chores touching upon my able bodied nerves.

Rainbow Footprints

earthen wear 5

Nearing her death bed, my grandmother had pulled me aside.  Tugging at me with hands of leather and lace.  Strength and pride.  Never gentle but guiding.

We had had our rough times…her and I.  However, knowing that she had been in the foster-care system in the 1920’s…seeing that she had married a very rough and opinionated Irish Catholic cop…

Understanding all this, along with the personal misunderstandings, made me admire her more and more…with every passing year.

I had been named after her.  I became stubborn like her.  I was indeed, like my name, Ruth, implies.  Old in spirit, cynical and undeniably, strong.

We, rarely, touched.  My grandmother and I.  It seemed to be an unspoken rule between us.  So on the day…nearest the next day…the day I would never speak to her again…I paid close attention to the ‘touch’.

Then of course, the words, I will never forget…

‘You are the strong one.  Don’t let me down.’

Plainly put,

the strong ones do not always want the privilege of the role.  On occasion, when alone, say in the car, I know this group of pillars, think…

‘Why can’t it be someone else?’

I know longer practice Catholicism.  Not that I had been a good practitioner back in the day.  I do enjoy some of the random antidotes.  Ideology of theology that can certainly be used by anyone of any faith.


One night I dreamed a dream.
As I was walking along the beach with my Higher Power.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life.
For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
One belonging to me and one to my Higher Power.

After the last scene of my life flashed before me,
I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed that at many times along the path of my life,
especially at the very lowest and saddest times,
there was only one set of footprints.

This really troubled me, so I asked Mother Earth about it.
“Goddess, you said once I decided to follow you,
You’d walk with me all the way.
But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life,
there was only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me.”

She whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you.”

footprints 1

When I am overwhelmed with the idea of…my strength draining.  I heed that advice of another important woman in my life…my wife.

‘You know you are not alone!’