Lady LibertyI'll bet she gets tired,standing up therewith her arm raised and foot behind her,eternally frozen unbalanced,yet never wavers in her stance.On her pedestal she watches,greeting the new and reassuring the old,the very symbol of freedomyet never free herself.Her torch lights the way home,uncaring who crosses her pathwhether rich, poor, black, or white.Forever she stands for all to admire, andshe is beautiful in her solemn silence,That Lady Liberty.
Too Far GoneHe's too far gone. That's what they keep telling me when I visit him. He won't remember you, they caution. He won't know you, or know what you're talking about. Still, even as they're telling me all the reasons not to go, I leave anyway, a smile forced onto my lips. I always want to greet him with a smile.When I get there I see him by the window, staring blankly at an unfamiliar scene. The nurse warns me not to upset him, but she has never said more unnecessary words. I am not a desperate woman clutching to fantasy, I am a loyal partner standing beside her one true love.I approach him loudly, making sure that he realizes I am there so I don't surprise him. He never liked surprises, I remember. He always thought they were another way to say it was okay to freak someone out and laugh about it. When he hears me he turns, looking at me as if trying to catch reality before it can slip away from him.There is no recognition in his eyes, just a dead, unhappy stare. Seeing nothing that inter
War PaintShe wanted to make his birthday special. It didn't matter that she couldn't cook, or that she was a terrible baker. All that mattered was how much she wanted to please him and how much work she was willing to do in order to achieve her goal.A cake sat on the kitchen counter, a little sad looking with one side rather lower than the other, the expected golden brown replaced by burnt edges and a pale middle. Near the cake stood a woman working furiously as she stirred a bowl of frosting, her tongue sticking out in concentration. Across her face was a smear of red, running along her left cheek, across her forehead and onto her right cheek. There were smears of blue as well on her nose and cheeks, giving her a patriotic look.She had decided to make the frosting herself rather than buy the pre-made, easily used tubes available at most grocery stores. It was more personal that way, she decided. Still, as she sat stirring frantically at the frosting she couldn't help feeling discouraged.The