Poetry by Julie S. Paschold Human Nature, Horizons, You Have Always Been Here available now!!! Horizons & Human Nature AVAILABLE IN P...
Dancing with Purpose
A Poem
Dancing with Purpose
--After Aaron Davis
What are you afraid of?
he asks in a podcast online
earlier in the day and it
sticks with me
not able to answer that
not able to articulate exactly
what I’m not confronting
or what I’m wanting
What is my potential?
He tells me to start walking
in purpose—
toward what?
I don’t know yet
Later that night
at a costume party
in front of the fire
we start talking about dancing
now that we’re sober—
something I haven’t done
my sweatshirt covering
my costume
I’m pulled into the center
of the circle, sweatshirt off,
told if I’ve got it, flaunt it,
wear it, may I take a picture,
whoops and hollers.
But still I don’t dance.
What am I afraid of?
Late that night, held in bed,
it comes to me as my man whispers
I got you:
I’m afraid to be seen unhindered,
I’m afraid of pleasure, of joy.
As if I don’t deserve it
as if dancing implies a loss of control
one step towards crazy:
she’s lost it, like anyone cares.
I’m not afraid of what people think,
I’m afraid of what I feel when I let go:
that freedom, that flying,
that belly-dropping openness.
I’m afraid to dance.
So tomorrow I’m playing the music.
I’m taking off the bulky clothes.
I’m loving the me that I am now.
I’m dancing…
no matter who’s watching.
No walking in purpose. Instead,
I’m dancing in purpose.
Without fear.
By Julie S. Paschold
10.26.25
Julie S. Paschold (Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle) is a poet and artist from Nebraska with a BS and MS in agronomy from the University of Nebraska at Lincoln. They have published three poetry books. Horizons (Atmosphere Press: paperback & audiobook) honors soil through family, identity, and nature, and won a Nebraska Book Award in 2024. Their chapbook You Have Always Been Here (Bass Clef Books: paperback) is an unconventional love story. Human Nature (WSC Press: paperback & Atmosphere Press: audiobook) explores humanity’s ecological and environmental connection to nature and the planet earth. Julie is the resident poetry instructor at Omaha’s Lauritzen Gardens and is registered with the Humanities Nebraska Speakers Bureau. Julie has been published in a wide range of publications. Their poem “Multitudes of Blue Arrows” was a semi-finalist in the first Kate Sommers Memorial Prize in 2023, and two of their chapbooks won honorable mention in contests by Writer's Digest in 2021 and 2022. They volunteer for the international Human Library Organization.
Canning
Tomatoes:
A how-to via poetry
Way too much
red on my kitchen table.
Lumps of juicy
flesh lay ripening
on metal trays,
pleading to be devoured
or
dealt with,
and
quickly,
for these
tomatoes are ripe and ready.
First, to peel
and put in jars:
Set in sink, let the spray bounce
back
and tiny droplets SLAP
your face as you clean
and core
each one.
Place in bowls, listen for the SLOP
of the water boiling
in the tea pot
on the stove;
Pour over waiting fruit.
Palm each tomato
once surfaces CRACK,
remove skins, carefully
SLICE
the meaty part into
chunks,
and SLIDE
into waiting jars.
Second, to boil
seals to jars in water bath:
Set lids on jars, seal-side on clean
lips,
and SCREW rims over
lids—
not tightly!
Gently place in rack
in canner
Cover with warm water
Heat to boiling
Wait patiently
for over an hour
Hear the BAM
of the canner’s lid
RATTLE
against the pot as steam
escapes;
Add more hot water
to keep jars immersed,
watching and waiting,
TAPPING toes,
until the BUZZ
of the timer alerts you.
Third, to
complete the seal:
CLAMP heads of jars and—
without tilting—
Bring each glass marvel to rest
on towels
Wait for 24 hours and listen for the
POP of each jar lid
as your bounty is safely
sealed,
safely kept,
Wanting a winter’s day
that calls for warm
soup.
by Julie S. Paschold
aka Tansy Julie the
Soaring Eagle
Julie S. Paschold: Poet, Artist, Agronomist from Nebraska. Author of Horizons (won 2024 Nebraska Book Award) & Human Nature. Semi-finalist in Kate Sommers Memorial Prize, honorable mention in two Writer's Digest contests. Resident Poetry Instructor at Omaha’s Lauritzen Gardens. Volunteer for the Human Library Organization. https://medium.com/@jpaschold or https://jpaschold.blogspot.com/ .
Weeding the Seedlings
A frustrating
day.
Ended by the
final cry
from our
20-year-old
rusty push lawn
mower
who decided to
give up the ghost
halfway through
mowing
the overgrown
lawn.
My son is now
assembling
our new one,
which shall
mulch away the
tips of blades
and tops of
broadleaf friends
who volunteer
their growth
above the soil.
I am bending
over twin oak
seedlings
captured in
chicken wire
for their protection,
viewing the
vines choking
their sunlight.
Pulling these
unwanted plants,
I pile them to
the side,
being careful
to avoid hurting
the small
trees. I talk to them
as I perform
this overdue task,
and as I am
coaxing the woven
tendrils from
the wire,
I notice the
slightest movement
at the tip of
one oak leaf.
A baby praying mantis perches,
startled from
my activity.
As I call my
son over,
we look closer.
Two tiny spiderlings.
A pill bug. And
my favorite,
a lady beetle
larva. Who else
have I
disturbed from this
miniature world
in which
we humans
become the
vicious wild
creatures to fear?
Wisps of who
they will become,
my son and I
are viscous, floating
out of time,
imploring our new friends
to find
themselves lost
in the nearby
garden and grow.
The mantis
crawls under
the shelter of
the shaded leaf,
and we leave
the pile where it lays,
holding what we
hope are more
living dust
motes, more tiny worlds
around which we
hover.
Earth, today,
for just this moment,
is generous.
--After Celia Drill
by Julie S.
Paschold
7.3.25