Guest Author, C. Brady
My whole life I was taught I was a goddess
From birth I was god in utero
When I found lies and tricks I left
But can I no longer claim divine?
I am the dust of stars and a Big Bang
My soul may begin and end with time
But I will live and breath as water vapor
So am I not divine?
Someday mushrooms will consume me
My fingers will feed trees or grass
Is that not divine?
I may not create a planet
Spitting babies to populate an earth
But I will give more life
My love will breed for generations
For yes- I am divine.
A goddess not in utero
A goddess alive now.
Poem Who makes the voice in your head?
Was it crafted by your parents
Boards laid down each bedtime
Nails banged in during car rides home?
Perhaps your friends in school etched upon you
With Tiny pencils they rewrote your narrative
Long talks and shared jokes erasing the words before
All you consume flushes and floods your story
Filling all the crannies with others’ pictures and ideas
Eyes and ears allowing everything in and never blocking
So what creates the voice you hear?
The one that nags to get to bed
Or argues everyone is wrong but you
Is the voice you hear kind or angry?
Does it spool and spindle creating vapors you could not hold?
But as you hear and listen to this voice
Convinced you must obey
- Do you wonder-
Did YOU create this voice
Or are you listening to another?