Life’s a terrible thing to waist

My waist has gone up 

To meet my rib cage, 

To meet my bust line, 

I am all in one.

Pants pulled way up, 

Almost to bust line, 

Legs way past ankle,

Skirts way up from knees.  

Gut is pushed out,

Backside pushed up, 

Knees can’t handle it, 

Takes toll on my back.

5/29/2021

Posted the above last evening, then this appears in my Facebook memories no 5/29/2015.  So, six years ago, I had made some progress...

How you feel when you are not pulling your dress down as it rides up. How you feel when your dress swishes around, moving to and fro. Well, that's a stretch. There is no swishing, however, I can move it from side to side instead of it moving up and down.

OVER THE MOON

COVID-19 is by far the most debilitating illness I have ever had, BUT, in my dawning, my awakening, in the quiet, in the solitude, in the stillness, in the shutdown, it did something magical to my creative brain.  I created this blog with my daily prose.  I wrote poetry for the first time.  I became interested in creating craft pieces – had no prior interest or skill.  I painstakingly put together a glass mosaic during a lesson with my niece, Simone, on Family Zoom.  I loved it so much that I created two more pieces.  I have set up an art space in my home.  I can’t imagine what would have happened to me mentally and emotionally hadn’t I been able to occupy myself while on lockdown.

I named the mosaic  “Over The Moon,” because I see the moon when I look at it, but it has a deeper meaning for me - I am over the moon that I created it.  I am pleased to say that this piece is on display at ArtsWestchester in White Plains, NY, along with my writings.  I now wear the title "artist."  I am over the moon, for real, for real.

Anniversary

Author: Sophia Trott

A LETTER TO GEORGE FLOYD ON THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF HIS DEATH MAY 25, 2021

Dear George:

It has been one year since our minds were seared with that horrible video showing the heartless police officer kneeling on your neck for over 9 minutes. We viewed the life being drained out of you as you called for your mother and continually said “I can’t breathe”.

We were all stuck inside our homes because of the Covid 19 Pandemic and we could not help but watch our television sets because we had no place to go. Blacks, Whites, rich and poor all watched as you died before our very eyes, over and over again. It was one of the most painful sights that i personally have ever seen. No longer, were we just hearing about these things happening somewhere in America, we had a first hand view. It could not be denied and we could not make any excuses. It was a day of reckoning. The Black man and woman finally felt vindicated that what they were saying all these centuries was in fact true. We could no longer fool ourselves to believe that we as a people had arrived because we had a Black man elected President of the United States and many people of color elected to some of the top positions in our government.

I am so sorry George Floyd that you had to die for us to come to this realization. You did not choose to be a matyr. You were a father, a son, and a brother just simply living your life out in the universe with plans for your future. You did not willingly give up your life but it was taken from you for $20.00. Was your life not worth more than $20.00?

There are many matyrs that went before you. There was Dr.Martin Luther King, jr., Ghandi and Malcolm but they chose that life of sacrifice knowing that they were placing their lives in danger each time that they protested, led marches and spoke to the masses. Their lives were being threatened on a daily basis, yet they continued the struggle because they believed that this was the only way to affect change. It is because of their sacrifice of life and limb that we even have some of the basic rights such as voting and the Equal Rights Amendment.

You did none of this. You did not march, you gave no such speeches to the masses and led no nonviolent movement. You were simply living your life and taking care of your family.

Your death has caused a “firestorm” in these United States. People have woken up and are protesting for change in the laws. We finally see a chance for meaningful change in America.

I am not sure how many more deaths it will take for this Country to change. Sadly to say that many more will die.

I am sorry that you had to die. We

Love

SOPHIA

The Chosen

It was a year ago, and I still wonder...

Ahmaud Arbery, I am sorry
Breonna Taylor, I say the same
George Floyd, it bears repeating
My sorrow, my grief, my pain.

Don't know why you were chosen
Will never understand why

You were the ones all chosen 

To take our cries up high.

You did not raise your hands
You did not volunteer

These never were your plans
To leave without a care.

In a car, at home or jogging
You could not catch your breath
Because, out there waylaying
Were demons dressed in flesh.

It was nothing but your Blackness
That posed a threat and fear
To those who saw your greatness
And chose to end it here.

But they misread your ending
In death, they made you soar
And caused a new beginning
We will lament no more.

Be gone, you oppressor
The death bell knells for sure
Your reign of terror is o'er
No more, no more, no more.

Breonna, Ahmaud and George

For us you paid the price
As you left, you bore the torch 

And made the sacrifice.

George Floyd, I thank you

Breonna Taylor, I say the same

Ahmaud Arbery, it's worth repeating
To you, I sing my praise.

And to all of you our fallen
For four hundred years and more
Names known and unknown
You, too, among the chosen.

Ambulance Chaser

Ambulance chaser

Chaser of the dead

You show up even before 

The pronunciation of death

At the press conference, there you are

Ambulance chaser, chaser of the dead.

News media,

Chaser of sensation

You left with your cameras

Wasn’t enough excitement for you?

Cut and dried, justified?

News media, chaser of sensation.

Ambulance chaser 

Where are you?

Was she not worthy?

Not enough excitement for you?

Not enough money to worth your time?

Ambulance chaser, chaser of money.