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.

Another Poem

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

Or maybe

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?

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