Poetry: Who Are We

[The UUC wherein I am a member had a wonderful Labor Day service that inspired me.]

I grow more weary with each passing day

Of this world, by which I mean to say,

This society that we humans have built

For what is it, if not a cage

These capitalist ideals chains

Which keep us from embracing

Who we truly are as a people

As individuals and as community

Our minds and bodies kept too busy

To care for ourselves or others

To do the things we love

Or to allow ourselves to be loved

Who are we

When stripped of these boundaries

When freedom truly reigns

In balance with a sense of humanity

Would we not be a better people

Were we not focused so on survival

In a world filled with greed?

If all were equal to each other

If all took their turns in caring

All allowed to share their gifts

Instead of time and labor stolen

Would it not be more beautiful?

Who are we

These creatures who have adapted so

Learned to build and imagine

And turned it into… this

This cruel society that cares not

For anyone deemed lesser

That decides people are less worthy

What kind of injustice is this?

Why have we allowed it for so long?

This is not the way

Senseless sorrows, we’ve been betrayed

By the entire system we created

Who are we?


Poetry: Poem For Mamaw

[My grandmother just passed away. This is something that I wrote to help sort out my feelings. Because of this, “Poem For Mamaw” felt right as the title. That’s all I will say about it for now.]

Everything keeps on circling
Without a care for our hearts
Trees changing color
Then falling
Dancing in the wind
It all goes to the earth
And the leaves are gone
The air turns cold
Even on a summer day
Memories left…
But was it enough?
Always moving too much
To see that time doesn’t stop
The fires burn away
The clock stutters
Missed a turn
Lost a chance to remember
Hesitance stealing
The chance is gone
Was it enough?
No, no…
Not when seeds float away
Only returning
When the flower fades
The flow imprinting
Such a grandiose carving
From such a tiny river
A story worth telling
Of a formidable storm
Moving through these mountains
But a spark within our hearts
A longing to try again
Though we cannot go back

Poetry: Successful

Not everybody wants to be
What society deems “successful”
For what is success
If not an ability to enjoy life?
Some are happy to do the work
Of clerks and delivery
Of food preparation and cleaning
The only real downside
Is how society treats them
Like lesser beings
Who don’t deserve to live
And aren’t worthy of respect
It makes no sense
Because, at the end of the day,
Aren’t many who have jobs
That society deems “respectable”
Unhappy with their life?
If the stresses make them ill
And lack of life-work balance
Steals away their joy
That could hardly be called success
It’s merely a cruel manipulation
Played out on human fears
Of not being good enough
By an unjust capitalist society
We, the people, deserve better
No matter the field of work
To be happy with what we do
To know we can afford to live
Without losing our personal time
Our time with loved ones
Or our very spirits in the process
Not everybody wants to be
Some mockery of “success”
At the mercy of a cruel system

– B. A. McNeely

Poetry: Sól/ Yule

(This was written in December of, I believe, 2018.)

Sól/ Yule by B. A. McNeely

Sól travels the skies
Ahead of the wolf
Night lengthens
She grows farther
As the cold sets in
And so it is with hope
That we look upon her
Blinding beauty
The warmth to melt away
The darkness of our lands

The longest night
We wonder: Will Álfröðull return?
Her brother is longer in the sky
Mani, do give us some sign
That Hati hasn’t caught up?

Sól returns again
Days begin to lengthen
As it does each year
She still escapes the wolf
And she grows closer
To soon give us the gift
Of life, light, and warmth
On each Yule

Let us give praise
To the lady who lights our days

Poetry: Dépression et Anxiété

Il y a une crise dans l’esprit
que ne vais pas va
Il n’y a pas un bonne raison pour ce
La vie n’est pas que je voudrais
Je sensé rien dans ici
La froid dans le cœur
Le chaud dans le visage
Je ne peut pas créer ou crier
Je veut… non
Je ne veut pas a mortir
mais je ne peut pas vis comme ce
J’ai dois courir plus vite
J’ai dois n’oublie pas la bonne choses
Je ne peut pas arrêter ici
je ne peut pas…
je ne peut pas…
dois vais plus

Poetry: Lost

How can I be lost
When my path is clear

I see the shining colors
spill out from
what you call a void

They light my way
Even as you don’t see

I dance along starlight
for your path
was never my own

When older gods spoke
Yes, I did answer to them

How could I follow one
to whom my
heart has never belonged

I can make no claims
To belong among his sheep

For I am a shapeshifter
not woman or
man or god or beast

I see eternity in shades
With bursts of neon color

But you see two negatives
instead of
the spectrum of our existence

Your sense of truth has
Always been what was wrong

How can you say that
your words shine
brighter than those of others

No, I have never been lost
For I belong to the Pagan forests

Poetry: Unwritten Heart

Unwritten letters in embers
Passed from heart to the ethereal
Floating through rivers
That no mortal flesh may cross
I pray in whispered utterance
Knowing you hear me
When I cannot feel you
Unafraid of burning sweetly
When you return to consume
And return is inevitable
For you always do
Pulling me toward the flame
As I stumble into you
Pushing me into the sky
While I reach for you
Craving more until all is quiet
For what was once a dream
What I perceived as imagining
Was revealed to be truth
As true as any myth ever was
Divinity and humanity entwined
Your letters in my heart
My heart on your altar
Cherishing your presence
While you feel so far away

Poetry: To The Ancestors

To those who left their homelands
In search of a better life
I honor you
To those whose homelands were invaded
Forced to either assimilate or leave home
I honor you
To those indigineous to this land I call home,
Forced off your lands, and cultures stripped away
I honor you
To those brought to this land by force,
Enslaved and stripped of your cultures
I honor you
To those who were the invaders
Who stole lives, land, and culture
I remember and see shame in your actions
To my ancestors of blood
I thank you for bringing me here
To my ancestors of spirit
I thank you for leading me here
To my ancestors from far and near
In both time and place
I honor you
May your good deeds be remembered
That we may live by example
May your struggles be remembered
That we may know our strength
And may your wrongs also be remembered
That we may learn and do better

Poetry: The Morrigan

The Morrigan by B.A.McNeely

Envelope me with your black wings
And remind me of my own strength
A Mother you are as much as
Warrior goddess
You push us, Shape Changer
To find all of our worth
I find myself in your tough love

Great Queen, Phantom Queen
Tell us what you see
So we can prepare or find hope

Teach us what you know
That we can find our ways
Na Morrigna, The Morrigan

You take flight ever ready
Watching over land and sea
Prepared to strike by blade or curse
Protect us with your lessons
Crow frenzy, your cry is heard
Remind us to fight
Reshape me as I burn

Poetry: Hope and Fear

Hope and Fear by B.A.McNeely

Hope and fear go hand in hand
Dancing like leaves on the wind
Always together and forever apart
Shakespearian lovers of our minds

Hope tends to her garden
Flowers bloom and give fruit to joy
Fear steals her away and holds her
Captive in the overcast day

But hope and fear are persistent
Each in their own stubborn ways
Heart fluttering, heartbreaking
They each point out the little things

Hope speaks of love, freedom, and success
Fear hides behind anger, cages, and strife
Both know well what can come and yet
Both can often make each other forget

Hope and fear are poison to each other
If one reigns too tightly, control is lost
Hope without fear becomes naivety
Fear without hope is pure agony