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Uncovered

So Glad I Met You

The Blue Buffalo

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Not Someone's Grand Illusion



Wisdom of the Infinite

The Differences

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

Patch-Worked Trilogy

I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Elise, Elise

A Bird, A Fly, A Cripple (Pity Poem?)

The Make-Up of Molecules

MOLECULES

HOW

Haiku's In Triplicate

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

EVENTUALLY...

The Change In The Change(s)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

EXPECT COMPLICATIONS

A New Clear

What Exactly Comes Next?

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

morning thoughts (begin again)

Encounter Before Dawn

Somtimes in Surrender

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

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I Turn Forward


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he would not touch my hand
for he was not like me

for him I was unclean
and I'd just washed my hands

pointing out differences
I could not see
not even reaching up to meet
the answer in my eyes

look
I'm right in front of you
(what is wrong here..)
you look behind me
to somewhere else
to the ghost that
I am to you

this moment of yours
doesn't even remember me
there is no light in there
of recognition
my own reflection fails
to affect

so this is indifference
this is  your prejudice
this is your denial and your ignorance
which endures beyond the human flame
which normally overcomes a heart
and makes it care
and where I fail to pass his test

he moves around me
he's stepping forward
he knows he's knocked me down
without any words
without any fists

long ago
something like this
happened at a public pool
when I was wading in to test its coolness
and the difference between its depth
and the sweltering wave
of the August air

it was there in a bathing suit
I was shocked to meet
their accusations
and their ugly lingering words
and loathsome glares

they said to me
 the water's getting dirty
they said
the water's infected, unsafe, unclean

my only friend stood in front of me shouting
at the children and their Mothers
but they were not listening

then my friends Mother appeared
pointing with indignation
accusing the children, the Mothers
and all the lifeguards
while she wrapped me in
a sun-warmed towel
around my shivering arms

"how dare you treat her like this...
she's never been in a pool before
you've bullied her
and you damn well know
she's done nothing wrong..."

I was eleven then--
now I'm fully grown
and growing old

why do I carry with me
this kind of grim
enduring patience
why then this unfaltering stance

I  will hold my head high

inside I've changed
though many of them
still
are changeless

I'm determined
to cross this Rubicon
to leave all this
and them behind me

I've turned forward
I can't walk within those sad old steps
no more.




LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 1:37pm PST 6/9/2020 TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/AUTHOR/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTERED COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

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