Privilege

I am not looking forward to the next election, and the round after round after round of privileged folk being unaware of so much. I find it, well, interesting that countries with a poor track record in recognizing that women are 100 per cent human will elect a woman to lead their country.

Privilege:

So many people

Spell it wrong.

So many

Can’t claim it,

Much less

Spell it.

I wonder

If it’s so difficult to spell

In other languages

In other countries

Even

On the moon

With no atmosphere

Whatsoever.

Witness

This is for Nate and Lauren.  This is for Lauren and Nate.  It is my honor and privilege to witness your marriage.

Today

I am privileged

To witness

The wedding of a couple

Who have thought through

And executed

More particulars

Than most every couple

I have known.

Today I will offer some words

But I know

No mere words

Will cover it.

Today I will sign

The certificate

And mail it off

To the State,

Still,

The certificate

Won’t cover it either.

Today it will take

All of us

To witness,

All of us,

All the promises

We can make

And then some,

And then some more.

One fact

I grew up privileged.  I live... privileged.  I know this.  Still... I get stuck on trying to convince someone of that One Fact I Know is Right... I do this sometimes.  OK, maybe I do this Too Often. I do this and perhaps I convince someone of something, or perhaps they stop listening, or name me something that cannot be written in this space.  In fact, I did it this morning on a listserve... trying to convince someone of a Very Important Fact... which I shall not name here... because, even though she is not a judge, and I have custody of my children, and I am privileged... there are other things which call for my time.  This is called... letting go.  It seems a lifelong lesson I need to learn.

I know someone

Not so very long ago

Who lost custody

Even visitation

Of her daughter

In part

Because she tried to convince a judge

He was wrong.

She was right.

The judge was wrong.

She chose one fact,

Worried it to death

Like a dog

With a bone,

Like our cat

Fixated on the feather toy

He cannot forget,

Even though we put the toy away

In the closet

Months ago.

She chose one fact,

Worried it to death.

Her daughter turned 18

This year.

I imagine the two of them

Together now

Making up for three years

Of lost time.

Collectors

Truth be told I am jealous of those who strive to collect people for their own gain, and are good at it. I have a difficult time selling my wares.  It has nothing to do with feeling I have little to offer.  No.  I have much to offer.  I have just never figured out how to be the first in line for corn across the way, like the ducks.  As I scorned the collector across the table at this week*s meeting, I watched the other man being collected, and was given a glimpse of the Kingdom, a real glimpse of the Kingdom.  The man simply shone with kindness and grace, not an ounce of postural privilege.  I saw Jesus.  I want to be like Jesus.

I watch the world

Jockeying for position

Aiming for the highest place.

Even the ducks across the way

Struggle

To beat one another out

For corn.

The woman in Domestic Violence training

Collected me at lunch

When I was noticed

By the teacher.

I saw her collect others

As the weeks moved on.

Her wallet was filled

With business cards

By the end.

Across the table

At this week*s meeting

A collector I*ve known for years

Strove to collect the man

Next to him.

I looked on in admiration

For the man next to him

Was gracious and kind,

Kind and gracious,

Not an ounce of postural privilege.

I want to be like him:

Gracious and kind

Kind and gracious.

I want to be like him.