I am white

I am white. I don’t know what it’s like To fear Discrimination, bigotry, name-calling, death under a knee I am white Brought up in a white community With white friends I don’t know what it’s like To feel how you feel To live your existence To have a history of constant oppression and special rules Fighting, protesting for survival I am white I have been privileged In ways I still don’t understand My fear is different and now feels likeRead more

The Working Girl’s Purse

The last “mom” post was in August, when she turned 99. Not much has happened since, other than she keeps eating, drinking coffee and taking lots of naps. She’s having a hard time holding her head up as this is one of the effects of dementia – her brain is forgetting to tell her body what to do. When I visit, I never know if she is going to be alert or have a sleepy day. The most recent visitRead more

One-Liner Wednesday: Smile

“My mom smiled at me. Her smile kind of hugged me.”  ~R.J. Palacio, from the book Wonder~ Mom was very chipper and talkative on Sunday. It was a stark contrast to when she hardly spoke two sentences to me on her birthday. She was tired then, but not this day. Her first question was, “Are you taking me home?” I answered with, “I’m sorry, not today. I have to go home to Appleton and to work tomorrow. Maybe next week.”Read more

Gratitude: My Red Bike at the Haskell Street Barn

Originally posted on D.Katie Powell Art:
*alert: vampire child face, oops* I had a good childhood, raised by a single mom with an alcoholic dad who skipped, and three much older brothers who loved me dearly. I am GRATEFUL because I wasn’t around JD (what they called my dad), because he caused a lot of grief to my brothers, really, a bit nutty. I had three amazing older brothers.  Who needed a dad? We lived in one of the…

Pauline’s Dream Revised

Back in August, 2014, I wrote a poem called Pauline’s Dream. You can read it HERE. For the Day 5 poetry challenge of Fog/Elegy/Metaphor, I chose to rewrite this poem and the words, but tell the same story. For those of you who are not regular readers, my mom is 95 and suffers from the effects of dementia. When Ben suggested fog as a mental state, this was a natural response. This is the place of my dreams, but itRead more