Category Archives: Spirituality

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 15 October 2017

If there is one thing you can expect from me, dear reader, it is raw honesty. The good, the bad and the ugly. At least from my perspective. Because that is all any of us has. We see the world through our own personal lenses. Some of us take the time and make the effort to inform our opinions with fact. And some of us let others do the work for us, gravitating to the truth that feels good to us.

Welcome to modern day America where news is fake, opinions are truth, there is us and them, and fear trumps love and reason. I saw it coming. This hotbed of extremes we find ourselves in. I tried to warn those closest to me that their support and vote for evil would not end well. I hate being right.

There is no satisfaction in having my greatest fears come true. There is only heartache compounded by the battle scars that I’ve sustained in the aftermath. My adult children, their spouses and extended families all voted for Trump.

Was I wrong to be angry? Was I wrong to feel betrayed? Was I wrong for being sad to realize the truth about those closest to me? I can tell you it makes me feel like a total failure as a parent. Though, with middle-aged children, when does the responsibility for their actions cease to be my fault? Mothers are too easily blamed.

And so I find myself in a new reality. A casualty of these divided states of America. Because I have refused to remain silent in the face of the injustice and the assaults on freedom, democracy and liberty for all, my own universe has imploded. My punishment for being other is to be outcast, separated from my beloved grandchildren, and disowned by everyone but my partner…and my dogs who still love me unconditionally. No more birthdays, mother’s days, grandparent’s days, thanksgivings or christmases to look forward to. Living death in the face of everything I held dear because I could not bury my emotions from those I had always considered safe.

Honesty, reality, truth, compassion, empathy, love. They still mean something to me. I have paid a dear price for these things. It is all I have left of the me as I struggle to find my way in this new reality. My heart grieves everyday. Being dead while living is not for the faint of heart. But I still believe in truth and honesty…and love. Even when it hurts.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 15 October 2017

left to wither alone
warm flush reducing me to ash / over the edge, swirling shards of bone
What’s so important
troubling my heart…
no one wants to know
phantoms in the mist
Oh my god! What happened?!”
That day the world felt too big.
I never believed in signs.
the moribund harbingers
it was never love
on the wind take flight
there’s a battle
power to change
it is now
to be forgotten


A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 8 October 2017

It befuddles and confounds us; the senseless rage rising up like fire, raining down like acid. Friendly fire that no walls, travel bans or profiling can protect us from. Why are we confused by the realization that our worst enemy is not some other?

And yet we refuse to own it once again. Those with the power to address tragedy turn their eyes away. Their pale lips drip with platitudes and empty prayers, while their pockets moan to be filled with alms for their loyal cowardice.

It is no longer when, how or if this madness will ever end. We are trapped in this house of mirrors. But the terrible monster is not hiding behind the looking glass. No. The monster stands tall and center, glaring at us; a million eyes, burning holes through our souls.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 8 October 2017

okay universe…you have my attention
in the wake of hate’s fire
it was the perfect disguise
misty shapeshifting fay
soul deep pools of ebon wonder
here’s the order in black and white
luna’s face glows flush
gently letting go
swirling into syllables
truth’s reflection burning bright
of course we never let on
crave its sweetness
by lingering sadness
rooted in stone
every sinister force
untouched by seasons


A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.

Universal Synchronicity

My fortune cookie this afternoon…

Okay Universe…you have my attention! ❤️

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 1 October 2017

Being an optimist is exhausting, especially now. I’m not going to rattle off another list of what is wrong with the world. You already know it…if you’re paying attention. And I’m guessing you’re exhausted like me.

I’ve stopped saying “I can’t believe it! How is this happening?!” I’ve stopped believing that I can count on people, even those I love, to do the right thing. I’ve started to believe that voting doesn’t matter because politicians are not in it for the people, but to line their pockets and ensure comfortable retirements for themselves.

I’m seriously considering the fact that I may not be an optimist after all. I’m clearly not up to the task. But I can’t bring myself to admit that I’m a pessimist either. Luckily for me, and you too if you’re exhausted, there is another option. Being a realist.

I looked up realist and found the perfect definition in the Urban Dictionary:

Realists have a firm grip on reality and can see things for what they are, not what they are told they are. Realists have their own views and do not fall victim to propaganda, misconception, or titles!

1. There is the Pessimist who believes the glass is half empty!

2. There is the Optimist who believes the glass is half full!

3. Then there is the Realist who knows it is just half a fucking glass!

No more exhausting “rah rah la-la-la, everything is unicorns and rainbows” optimism from me! No more “kiss your ass goodbye, the sky is falling” pessimism either. They’re both exhausting and in a word, delusional. Realism is where it’s at. My self-talk needs a do-over…

“So yeah, things suck…a lot…right now. And it’s probably gonna get worse before it gets better. Fortunately for you, for everyone, it won’t last forever. It never does. Get a grip! In the meantime, the sun is shining and the sky is blue. Or maybe it’s raining. Deal with it. We need rain sometimes. It helps plants…and people grow. But the sky is definitely not falling, so get over yourself. And for god’s sake, get out of bed. Today is 24 hours of whatever you choose to make it. Clock is ticking sweetheart. Get out there. Kick some ass!”

I’m definitely pessimistically, optimistic that being a realist is the way to go. I am so over being an extremist. At the end of the day I might still be exhausted, but it will be well earned exhaustion from keeping it real!

Have a great week everyone! Here’s to keeping it real and kicking it!

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 1 October 2017

conformation be damned

it drives us mad if we ignore it

and then some

the twister spared the trees 

air dense with death’s balm

chaos rages, earth in flux

tossed and forgotten

a tiny dot on a page

back in the day

pipe-dreams on inked pages

until the lights went out

ending suddenly into dead, black silence

tracks through the wild

even if it is hard to see…

I am not dazzled

death whispers to her


Magnetic Poetry Saturday

my garden heaves her

last bit of sweetness

as the cool beauty of

death whispers to her

urging her to sleep…

to dream of spring

I am not dazzled by

broken gods and

fool-hearty men who

must be surrounded by

all-embracing prisoners

of fear to feel whole

keep trusting in

the goodness of

others even if it is

hard to see….I

believe it’s always

there, waiting to care

every path is thick

with followers but

wanderers leave fresh

tracks through the wild


Magnetic Poetry

%d bloggers like this: