When Iím really frustrated or in a deep internal battle over the rapeís effects on my life and the lives of those I love poetry is what I often turn to. I find that if I speak in plan prose Iím perceived as a threat or I anger people. But there are those times I think Iíve got to speak up or Iíll never be heard because people, especially men, donít like or respond to poetry. So sometimes I make the mistake of vocalizing myself. Expressing my needs as an ASA man as I did in a different forum only to have it be shut down. It is dismissive moments like that, that turn me back to my poetry.


Hope is like an eveningís inspiring sunset
Flashing promising lights in dazzling display
Raysí visual songs, sung in dreamy colors
Until descending,
Coercing hues to fade away

Itís in this place between the shadows where
Movements intermingling with fearís aberrations
Blur clarity within shaded outlines.
Iím devoured
By the colorlessness of dimming aspirations

Balanced (My goal)

There is symmetry
In self-reflection
Life exemplified
Grace personified