Whether it’s cold,
or whether it’s hot ~
you’re gonna have weather,
whether or not.
It’s what Moms always said;
her eternal adages.
old German/Irish idioms,
truths, kept, like small badges.
Mein Got In Himmel!
or Ach, du Lieber!
the Germanic, used always,
for disdain, or disfavor.
but alongside was aah, Lassie!
the Truth of Irish soul,
flirtatious, but an achiever.
Life, twixt lines,
of lineage, as proof.
lets you know who you are,
your own Melting Pot - aloof.
So American, this girl that I am.
I think so much on the Germanic one who brought me.
Valentine Knies, my Dad’s heritage,
and George Custer Cline, my mother’s, who wrought me.
i bristle and i shake; i have opinion.
and people don’t like me much.
but it’s only because i have spirit,
and i keep myself within my own touch.
it’s such a disgrace to say age is a curse,
for age is the finest weapon.
you know finesse, little is left to second-guess,
and in the end, even less is left to question
i have no idea where my destiny lies.
so i do not expound medical or political summations.
it has nothing to do with me in the first place,
and i just don’t relate to those who feed on their elations.
Rather, I feather my nest
away from those who need legions.
I know my own Self, rights and rites of me,
and it’s only so, because I believe them.
You make. You create.
there is only your own Self at the helm.
why must there be a validation?
hesitation only begets overwhelm.
trust is in Body, movement is in Soul.
allowing your withoutness to become your insides.
the acceptance of what you think you have not
becomes the very source of your pride.
i love singing back to the Grackles and Starlings,
each morning as they now tap at my sill.
and smile so wide, for having survived,
embracing the All that surrounds me, still.