The prompt today was “nerve.” Here is where that one word led my mind.
Curve
I admire those who have the courage and the verve
to choose a filmy cut-out dress that shows off every curve,
for I admit I have neither the figure nor the nerve!
There is no scale for bravery, no ruler and no gauge
for those who memorize their lines and stand up on the stage
reciting without benefit of the printed page.
Some men face off lions in the lion’s den,
and women face off dangers from the selfsame men,
while I sit home and face the dangers of the brush and pen.
Some may find their courage in the finest wine––
others at the bottom of a tankard or a stein,
but my imagination is where I go for mine.
Conviction is so easy when it’s written on a page
unhindered by imprisonment in cell, compound or cage
or the threat of facing zealotry’s cruel rage.
Some of us are lucky in the details of our birth:
our health, our parents and our looks–our beauty and our girth,
but most of all the place that we are given on this earth.
There are others not so lucky, born to famine and to drought
or to repressive governments where those who have the clout
give no room for self-expression or enquiry or doubt.
This is where it takes pure nerve to stand up to the strong
who’ve exercised the cruelty of power for so long
to say at threat of life and limb what you feel is wrong.
I say these things in safety from a place that is secure.
I need not rage in silence. I need not be demure
or face punishment for thoughts that others deem impure.
I’m lucky in the problems that I face from day to day,
for nothing that I want to drink or wear or do or say
is labeled with a “thou shalt not” or listed as a “Nay.”
I admire those who have the courage and the verve
to speak truth as they see it and face the cruel blade’s curve,
for I admit I have neither the valor nor the nerve!
(For Raif Badawi–– sentenced to 10 years in prison and 1,000 lashings for writing his beliefs on his blog and Ali Mohamed al-Nimr, Dawood al-Marhoon, and Abdullah al-Zaher—all minors sentenced to death by beheading simply for attending demonstrations. Incredible to realize I would be put to death for what I am saying right now if I lived in Saudi Arabia or Egypt.)
I like your poem, it’s very funny. The photos of the scary looking implement are works of art, too.
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I am definitely less nervy now than when I was younger, especially as regards clothing. Before all the surgery turn my body into a roadmap of the Boston Undergraound. Today a nerveless day. I feel like a limp, soggy rag. I think I’m losing my battle with this virus.
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Wow… You take my breath away girl.
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Hi Pat! Good to see your name and pleased to have you read my poem.
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Those pictures — yikes! there’s power in them things!
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Ha. I coerced my gardener into posing with my house painter/artist friend’s machete. He giggled the entire time!
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I have enjoyed reading this post very much. On first glance I thought this was a snake and it certainly got my attention. A wonderful article!
Pat
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Hi Patricia… Thanks for your intriguing comment… Now I have to look at the poem again!!!
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Aha… bet you were talking about the photo, not the poem. Duh.
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Did you realize it was a machete? A friend and I have been having a conversation about it and he thinks readers probably don’t realize what it is.
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I didn’t realize it was a machete until I looked a little closer. I’ve never seen a photo of a machete before. It is a wonderful photo! Very effective!
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This is wonderful. Thank you for it.
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I never know what the next sentence is going to be on any poem or story, but this one turning serious was appropriate, I think, in demonstrating how minimal our problems and fears are when put up against what these young men are facing…
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