Allow these words to fill your heart
A woman writes herself a life each day as she moves in the now. Virginia Woolf said that only women stirred her imagination. I would add only women have moved me to action and power. If I would write my life it would be to try to protect other women from tragedy and abuse and grief. It would be to say my complete truth without fear of consequences.
Often in literature and in every day life, women’s every day life, our friendships are belittled, and misunderstood. Yet, as women, friendships enliven us, fill us up and give us a way out of lonely grief.
” Affection…means the state of influencing, acting upon, moving, and impressing, and of being influenced by other women.”—-Janice Raymond
Audra Lorde once stated, ” I speak without concern for the accusations
that I am too much or too little woman
that I am too black or too white
or too much myself
and through my lips come the voices of the ghosts
of our ancestors
living and moving among us.”
“To justify an unorthodox life by writing about it is to re-inscribe the original violation, to re-violate masculine turf.” —Nancy K. Miller
3 dui’s. I think he needs to be punished like any other citizen.
There once was a bear named Bella. She lived in the woods of the National Forest and she was very content except for one thing, she wanted to learn to dance.
Bella lived near a large campground. She watched large groups of people come and go all the time but one group came every year and this group intrigued Bella. The people there sang and danced all weekend. They sang to the trees and they sang to the sky. They sang to the animals of the woods. They sang and drummed at night to the stars and they sang to each other and they danced…
Bella loved to watch the dancing and she loved to watch the groups of women who danced wearing beautiful colours and sparkly gold discs and she wanted to be like them. The other bears near her thought she was nuts. They caught her deep in…
View original post 1,302 more words
Still haunted by the memories; sleepless nights filled with reveries…
The dust gets blown away off a shelf in disarray,
as I flip through tearstained pages; and time-filled empty spaces
raising thoughts of you and me from my mental diary…
Tracing back to all those incomplete moments,
Along the track – shattered dreams and spewed contents,
Those moments of passion – still unfulfilled,
Stewing frustration within the walls we built…
Doors that we did open – deep inside our head
All those words spoken, yet, so much left unsaid…
To passion we had awoken – in love – heels over head!
Yet, suffering heartbroken as we lay beside in bed…
We stood beside one another; but not with each other
With kisses never tasted, and all that time wasted
We fought, we argued – we hurt each other so much
In anger instead we brewed – to avoid each other’s…
View original post 99 more words
With effort you can see what is really there. Hugs, Barbara