The Real #MeToo Movement

The real #MeToo movement
is that we are all humans.

Fragile
with hearts.

I love reading others thoughts
and poetry and finding out
that I am not alone in the
phenomenon of disappointments,
plans that don't work out
and heartache.

Finding out I am not alone
in having good days and bad,
happiness and sorrow.

In needing to house, feed and clothe myself,
all the while navigating other humans
like me.

At the end of the day
we are all a myriad of hashtags.
All the same ones.

by Jenny Miller
2/10/2020

Half Winter

There are half the leaves

still clinging,

to the tree this year

Half cold, half warm days

half overcast, half sunny

Half hopes for Spring

But what will happen

to half the leaves

still hanging on?

Half is better than nothing,

yet still not whole.

Never before have I seen

a half winter

such a long fall

or an early Spring.

by Jenny Miller

1/30/2020

Vulnerability

I realized today
that I know
all about
my own vulnerability
but know little
of yours.

Have not stopped
to consider enough
that you are
vulnerable too
by default
as you are a human
with a heart
wants, needs, dreams.

I knew all of the
emotional anatomy part.
But did not often enough
stop to think about
the vulnerability part
and what that means.

I love you.

by Jenny Miller
1/14/20

Late Winter

It is the season of dreaming.

Cold, wet, rainy.

Darkness, semi-hibernation.

Thoughts turn inward, life slows down.

Everyone is in a state of semi-operation.

Time to nestle in your nests,

And wait out the storms.

Time to move slowly.

Give ourselves a break from pushing forward,

And just be.

To seek contentment---that elusive bliss.

Don’t forget to look around,

To see the beauty in it all.

The misty covered mountains--

Those dark friends who are resting this time of year too.

The trees who are bare and dreaming

Of fragrant new buds of pink, yellow and green.

The sound of the pit-pat of  the rain in the stillness.

Be quiet inside so you can hear the voice--

His voice speaking to you.

It is comforting to know

We are all just human and in this together.

We are all tired, slow, inside and cold,

Trying to get warm after another day and another night,

Untill she, in all her glory rises from the depths

And greets us smiling and smelling of mothers’ perfume,

Warming us with her crown,

Comforting us with her gentle breeze caress.

Taking off our jackets, sweaters and gloves,

And telling us to wake up and go out to play.

by Jenny Miller

January 23, 2008

The Dove

by Jennifer Miller

I saw a dove today

struggling to fly 

in the wind.

A tan, beautiful, small dove

with accents of black, tan, dark brown and white.

She came to perch 

on the sprasley leaved tree

outside my patio

to shelter 

from the gusts of wind.

And there she rested

for a spell

until the gale had passed.

When I looked again

she had flown off.

Is it so wrong 

to perch on a branch?

In shelter from the gusts of wind in this life?

Until it is past and you can fly off again?

To find safety when you are struggling

to fly 

due to the uncontrollable forces

of nature?

Is it so wrong?

Far Far Away from Here

(Image from a card my mom--Laura Miller--Poet, Writer, Artist made for me)

 

Written 2/24/16

 

"Dear God, make me a bird, so I can fly far...far far away from here." -Jenny--from Forest Gump

 

 

Some days we just have to call it a wash. This is one of those days. You stop and ask yourself--what do I need to do to take care of myself today?  I only have to make it through these 8 hours. There is coffee, there is a warm shawl I can wrap myself in, there is acceptance that I cannot do my best today. I got out of bed, got dressed, I showed up. Some days that has to be enough.

 

 

I think of things to cope, like envisioning a beautiful forest scene only I can see beyond the wall I face every day. I can see into this place anytime I want. And moments, the ones that become part of your soul. What are your moments? Here is mine today:

 

 

I am a young girl, much stronger, magical, and hopeful than I am today. I am with my family in Mammoth Mountain on summer vacation.  We hike up to a plateau surrounded by tall mountains that are covered in an endless sea of dark evergreen tree friends standing at attention, watching. There are clouds in the sky with the sun poking through. I venture a little ways by myself, and stand on the plateau, those I love more than anything not so far away. The wind picks up and begins to blow through my little girl soul, through my hair, through the millions of trees on the steep mountain slopes, and there is the gentle rore of the wind blowing though trees sound, when all else is silent. It is strong, powerful, it is peaceful. It is one of my moments. I will go there, and that is where I will live today.

 

~Jenny Miller

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s like climbing a sheer rock cliff.

Sometimes there is a place to stick

The tips of my toes, no matter

How small, to hoist myself up just

A little farther to the top.

 

Sometimes there is absolutey

No..fucking…hole or crevice.

I stay stranded there in my gear

Ropes still, not knowing what

To do.

 

Repel down and start again?

Stay suspended, paralyzed,

Frozen?

 

And what is at the top anyways?

Why am I climbing this cliff in

The first place?

 

Perhaps there is no small crevice

Or hole, because humans were

Not meant to climb cliffs anyways.

 

Time to repel down, give up the futility

Drop my gear, change my clothes

and walk away?

 

~Jenny