I am from high hills and low valleys, from poverty and pain.

I am from the rural farmhouse rentals that changed every few months for never ending years.

I am from the barren alfalfa fields, the cornfields bittersweet.

I am from the Cox Tree Service woodsmen and men and women who played as hard as they worked.

From Stanley Cox and Anna Kinsler - Anna Mae Cox was born - my mother whom I proudly claim.

I am from the addictions of drugs, sex and alcohol and domestic violence of all forms.

From cold dark secrets and hot blooded heathens.

I am from the baptism of Lutheran religion, a grandma who worshipped Jehovah, and an array of childhood non-denominational church attendances - all of which seemed to me, in my youth, to be practicing hypocracies.

I am from the hidden hills of Sugar Grove, Ohio, where a pot of beans and home grown tomatoes fed an aching belly.

From the unwed mother, the unknown father and the abusive stepfathers I have been born and bred.

I am from God and from the grand old U S of A, and since I am now no longer from my past, I am at present a woman with a unique soul, with the God given right and the freedom to determine my future.

I am woman and I will do more than survive.

I will thrive!

My passion is ...

spreadin' a bit o' sunshine!

I know too much about ...

poverty & pain & love & loss.

My childhood ambition ...

to be a veterinarian.

My favorite memory ...

me & my son goin' on lunch dates when he was a child.

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

reading - Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

My best moment ...

Wings Of A Dove - Cancer benefit for friends.

My inspiration ...

God, friends, family & my pets.

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Immigration

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Cross the Border

Cross the border?
Real, or imagined, it's just a drawn line.

Imagine...
Imagine a line drawn between you and the nearest grocery store.
Imagine...
Imagine that you just ate a slice o' bread and you hunger for more.
Imagine...
Imagine the shelves o' food in that grocery store upon which your starvin' belly could dine.
Imagine...
Imagine that all you would have to do to cross the border is to crawl across that drawn line.
Imagine...
Imagine that YOU are the one whose job it is to shoot anyone who dares to cross that borderline drawn in front o' you.
Imagine...
Imagine that ...

More..