The men kitty corner to me in this restaurant are dissecting women. Loudly proclaiming which pieces they prefer. To use. Don’t they know that this pair of breasts comes with a pair of ears? I can hear. I can feel.
Objectification.
Patriarchy.
Rape culture.
My 13-year-old child is a beauty, looking much older than the innocent child she is.
My worry. Disgust. Fear.
Exhale.
I log in to Facebook, heart sinking to read about yet another victim to the modern scourge. Daffodils sold by the ton, and yet cures stubbornly elude the smartest of us. It’s rare to feel so helpless in this day and age.
Chemotherapy.
Radiation.
Survival odds.
My loved ones are not immune, dealt a brutal hand. Again.
My worry. Disgust. Fear.
Exhale.
She browbeats my husband. Yelling, in front of our children, gesturing her disdain. “Why don’t you teach your kids some manners?” Their almond eyes, simple hearts and developmental profiles are powerless to protect them from this attitude.
Misunderstanding.
Judgment.
Ignorant cruelty.
My special kids work so hard, struggling to find their place in this world.
My worry. Disgust. Fear.
Exhale.
I shadowbox invisible foes,
bouts I cannot win.
I choke on the toxic fumes,
of a world I cannot control.
Until I learn to clear my lungs.
Let it go.
Play my part,
then leave the fight in Divine hands.
Exhale.

© 2012 Tom Garnett, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio
So here’s me, on a lovely summer holiday full of fun and adventure and ice cream, learning to spit out the ugly that finds us, even here.
This is my contribution to the Five Minute Friday roundup on the word:
Exhale.