The Stress Test

They had her strip to bare her chest

She lay upon a table

The lights were bright

Her pulse was racing

Too much too soon

sheer panic when two women stood above

To rub and cleanse her

The cuff so tight upon her arm

Their faces stern and cold as ice

While gluing leads upon her chest

Which heaved while her pulse was racing

Don’t touch me please.

Cover me please.

Help me please.

Let me up.

Let me go.

You don’t know

That my mind is back when I was vulnerable

In every dream I cannot run

In every room without a door

In every corner, every basement, on every floor

NO MORE!!!!!!!!

“We cannot do the test my dear

Your pressure up it’s very clear

You must be stressed

About the


Reschedule please.

Not on my life

would I agree

for such humiliation

of that degree..

the veil

what lies beyond the veil that shrouds our minds

from memories and thoughts best left behind

like the dense fog lying low in the valley

the thought just barely out of reach

the creation of the veil is not easily forsaken

besides, there really is  no purpose now for clarity

and the pattern has been lived too long

the veil is a smooth safety net

covering truths best never met..




One Heart.. by Tara Eberle and Iridesense “inside,everybody’s got ONE heart”

One Heart is all about diversity, and acceptance.
It explores the reality of our differences. We all look differently on the outside. Different hair color, skin color, eye color. We even like different things. That’s not what’s most important. If you look at who we truly are, at our core, we are all the same. We need to spread this message to children, and to the world. Especially now when everyone is taking sides. Politically, religiously, etc. We are a muticultural world. Our differences on the outside make us unique, but our hearts need to be unified. One heart.

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Mom’s Pearls

Mom’s Pearls

My sister turns 70 this year.  I want to give her something special because it’s a milestone year, and she is very dear to me.  I have our mother’s pearls.  They ended up with me because she lived in my home the last 9 months of her life before her death.   That was eight years ago.

They are a set of beautiful cultured pearls.  A gift from my Dad to my Mom many years ago.  They have a beautiful sheen about them and all are a muted white except for four that are slightly darker.

I wanted to save them for one of my daughters. Yet how would I decide which one? I have already given them both some of her jewelry and I will of course, be giving them mine.  Probably before I die, so as to know who really wants what.

The pearls need to be restrung with knots. It would not be safe to wear them now and there is a gap before the catch.  They make me think of my mom and all the times I would help her with the clasp when she would be going out to a special occasion with my dad.. I would put on her makeup and polish her nails and the pearls would come on last.  They show up in many family photographs.

 I brought them to a jeweler, told her the story, and when I picked them up I marveled at how beautiful they looked, she had put the four that were slightly different in the back. It was really a big thing, silly as it might seem, for me to let go of the pearls. I teared up, and felt that funny feeling in my gut. I know my sister will cherish them as much as me.  I think she has always wanted them but never said, at least that’s what I “feel”.

The birthday party came and went , I gave her the pearls in a pretty pouch inside a larger box with a picture of us on it and it was funny because she said “ I wanted to wear pearls today but realized I didn’t have the right ones”.

 I knew what she meant and I smiled because she has the right ones now.

Why Survivors Don’t Speak

amazing post..yes, yes yes! thank you for speaking for so many..

Dating Tips for the Feminist Man

Why don’t survivors speak? It’s not just for the reasons you think.

Let’s take a journey inside the brain and nervous system of a woman or trans person experiencing serious gendered violence.

First, let’s visit Broca’s Area

Broca’s Area is a furl of neural matter in the left half of your brain, curled behind your left temple, above your left ear. There it is – the smaller of two orange patches. On the left, there:

For the neuroscience geeks in the room, Broca’s area was the first area of the brain to be associated with a specific function, when in 1861 Paul Broca examined the brain of a man who, in life, had been unable to speak, and discovered a significant lesion in the left frontal lobe. (That big hole in the brain in this picture below.)


Here’s a picture of the brain of a man who went by the name ‘Tan’ because that was the only word…

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Mothers Weep While Children Sleep

The place where I carried you aches

although only a cavern now.

your heart

my heart

your blood

my blood

your eyes

my eyes


useless tears




the lion sleeps tonight

the voice so loud

the words cut deep

another night

of restless sleep

unless you are

the lion





amazing and entertaining read!

Barking In The Dark

Image result for trump religious cartoons

Yesterday, laundries in and around our nation’s capital – as well as those of the very finest hotels, were kept buzzing deep into the early morning hours in a feverish attempt to get all the necessary sheets laundered, starched, and ironed, in order that the many delegates to the ultra-conservative Values Voters Summit could appear presentable. The summit will run until September 11th – at which time its closing will be marked by a real-time mass water-boarding demonstration of 100 immigrants – each being paid $10 to participate.

Gushed one attendee; “One always desires to wear a freshly laundered white sheet and hood, and in that vein, I should personally like to commend Ah Fong’s over on Main Street for their excellent ironing abilities. Those chinks  can really press a sheet.”

Scheduled speakers – besides Donald Trump and running mate Mike Pence – will include Senators Tim Scott and…

View original post 1,450 more words

Happy 6th Birthday ..

reminders of your mama when I look at your face

she was 6 happy and full of all the imaginings of a little girl

she had dolls and stuffed animals as friends..

just like you..

then three days after her 6th birthday I had to tell her

“daddy’s gone to heaven”

he didn’t make her birthday party, I don’t know why

we had a fight on the phone

he may have  lied

and now the memories

are back again

the box within my heart and soul

has opened

I weep for him

and all the times I tried to help

and finally gave up..

“if you die Grandma I won’t have any Grandmas” she said

be still, be still

there could never be enough apologies, there can be no real forgiveness

she was an innocent, just like you

and I would have done anything to protect her


free bird

you were always beautiful yet did not see yourself as such

never forgetting the mother who pulled on your nose

when she came to visit you

in the “Home “.

Or the job you were given to sweep the stairs

because you were “stocky”.

Then it was the man who mocked the crafts

that you excelled at

because you did not share his love of books

and when the drink took over

he did not read anyway.

To me you were the best at everything

it was I who could never measure up

we  sadly sometimes teach our daughters

the everyday struggles to be good enough

To me  you were always more than good

and we had months to mend it all

Today’s the  day you flew away

in May

a beautiful  bird at last..


love you always and forever mom






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