The Universally Besieged
Katherine Leigh, First Place Adult
Sad assignment, that of giving birth to a sterile baby
in a barren world, all countries shaken to their cores.
Takes a certain jaded courage to saddle up with only
hope enough for the slight remainder of what was
originally a full journey.
Yet we travel, pay the hand to pass us through
borders, open gates at night to the glint of coin and
bullet over bodies of our daughters, bones of our sons.
Listening to our plight has a color;
help, a shade of grey.
Carved into me is the bravery to move by moonlight.
The ‘besieged’ talk around the potato table about a
possible rebirth of remnants of family fled from damaged
culture, in a faraway imagined-place we may, easily,
never see.
So to mold a new future, to hold onto old traditions,
to carry embers of flame, to embolden sinew under the
burden of relentless intensity.
That is each waking moment if we curl for a drift of
sleep.
We take time to thank Allah or Jesus or Quan Yin,
the ancestress energy, the generative offspring.
Believers, we bend our bodies to include moon and
sun, to reinforce as artists of our daily lives, of our
impermanence;
ourselves as stars.
cancer creations
Mary Anker -Second Place Adult
a mother recovers
her nine-year-old body
reacquaints itself
time
barely unspooling
pulls years out of seconds
bald head worn proud
trips to Boston
pilgrimages pursuing
a holy grail
courage
in a chemo chair
alien face eyebrows and lashes disappear
inside elevators
fear stands
elbow to elbow
hollow strangers
nod
eyes do the communicating
kitchen table
a studio
scissors, sayings
paint brushes, pens, journals, cards
watercolors, words
release
disbelief
love holds
after long nights
of floating blue
the sky of light
renews
I Could
Autumn Siders-Third Place-Adult
I Could I could sit and watch
as you scream and shout.
I could back away
and let you sort it out.
I could hear those words,
Muslim, illegal, fag, Jew
but pretend they are just words
not to do with me but with you.
I could go home
and just wait my turn
until your hate becomes murder
and these words boil and churn.
I could wait until
those screams turn to fists
and look on in horror
as blood fiercely mists.
I could do all this
but then am I to blame
when the headline this week
is another soul has been maimed?
I could stand up
and make my voice heard,
stand beside a fellow human
and push back your bitter words.
I could stand up
and you could stand down a
nd realize that differences
are what make the world go ‘round.
I could lecture you on love
but you are just so full of hate,
so instead I’ll show you love
and all it can create.
