This was hung up inside a door on the Reservation in ND. It is meant for the living, but I think it means just as much to us for our loved ones who have gone to the Summerland, and will return again:
It's not easy for us while distance separates us, as each day
passes
into another, we must look forward into tomorrow, knowing that
we are
one day closer to the dreams we hold.
It may be frustrating when we need a hug or want each other's
company. If we feel alone, we should close our eyes and remember
a moment in time when we held one another...
Remember our smiles, and listen to our warm voices, and feel
the Love
that surrounds us. We must live each day together, even though
distance keeps us apart.
It may seem unfair at times if we feel neglected by each other...we
must understand each of our needs and take time out of our separate
worlds to open our hearts and minds.
Let's live each day, side by side, let's feel comfortable with
our
love, for then loneliness will leave us.
Missing each other will help us gain confidence in our togetherness,
and we'll grow while we're apart.
**********************
For those we love, and for those we miss
This is how things begin to tilt into
change,
how coalitions are knit from strands of hair,
of barbed wire, twine, knitting wool and gut,
how people ease into action arguing each inch,
but the tedium of it is watching granite erode.
Let us meet to debate meeting, the day,
the time,
the length. Let us discuss whether we will sit
or stand or hang from the ceiling or take it lying
down. Let us argue about the chair and the table and
the chairperson and the motion to table the chair.
In the room fog gathers under the ceiling
and thickens
in every brain. Let us form committees spawning
subcommittees all laying little moldy eggs of reports.
Under the Grey fluorescent sun they will crack
to hatch scuttling lizards of more committees.
The Pliocene gathers momentum and fades.
The earth tilts on its axis. More and more snows
fall each winter and less melt each spring.
A new ice age is pressing the glaciers forward
over the floor. We watch the wall of ice advance.
We are evolving into molluscs, barnacles
clinging to wood and plastic, metal and smoke
while the stale and flotsam-laden tide of rhetoric
inches up the shingles and dawdles back.
This is true virtue: to sit here and stay awake,
to listen, to argue, to wade on through
the muck
wrestling to some momentary small agreement
like a pinhead pearl prized from a dragon-oyster.
I believe in this democracy as I believe
There is blood in my veins, but oh, oh, in me
lurks a tyrant with a double-bladed ax
who longs
to swing it wide and shining, who longs to stand
and shriek, You Shall Do as I Say, pig-bastards.
No more committees but only picnics and orgies
and dances. I have spoken. So be it forevermore.
Did you know....
If shop mannequins were real women, THEY'D BE TOO THIN TO MENSTRUATE.
There are 3 billion women who don't look like supermodels and
ONLY 8 WHO DO.
Marilyn Monroe wore a SIZE 16.
If Barbie were a real woman, she'd have to walk on all fours due
to her proportions.
The average American woman weighs 144 lbs. and wears between a
size 12 and 14.
One out of every 4 college aged women has an eating disorder.
The models in the magazines are airbrushed-THEY'RE NOT PERFECT!!
A psychological study in 1995 found that 3 minutes spent looking
at models in a fashion magazine caused 70% of women to feel depressed,
guilty and shameful.
Models who twenty years ago weighed 8% less than the average woman,
today weigh 23% less.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The enclosed Maya Angelou poem is being circulated to celebrate Women's History Month
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.