You Get Me

 You Get Me
―To my fellow Northeastern Nebraska Poets

 

Well, I’m here, but you get me just as I am.
You get me just like this.
You get me hanging on by my fingernails.
By a thread.
Hair bundled in a high ponytail.
Same clothes I wore yesterday
(you say, well, you look comfortable at least)
Moccasins and last year’s glasses.
My life lately feels like a game
of Whack-a-Mole and I’m losing,
the sign on my mirror at home reminding me
to Roll with it curled and laughing at me
because I’m dealing with the unexpected so much
it’s more like rolling down a hill with no brakes
than just mere occasional adaptation to a simple hiccup
or two. No matter.
We gather for poetry, connect over words
and memories and laughter and food,
and after, when it’s time to split the bill
and I say to the waitress, I’m all alone—
you say Yes, but we love you anyway—
and you get me just as I am.

 

by Julie S. Paschold
aka Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle

10.22.26

Advice to a Young Person: a poem

 Here is a poem about my self--giving advice to potentially a younger version of me. Or to anyone who needs to hear it. 

Please, in this world of anger, hurt, tumult, and uncertainty, be kind to each other. Learn to find our commonalities, our qualities of goodness, the wonder that surrounds us.  There is a universe full of love out there, if we choose to share it. 

Advice to a Young Person

Who am I to give you advice?

Having fallen down the stairs
a dozen times,
not from some inept dance step
gone wrong

but a mismanagement
of medication,

a build-up of toxicity
from becoming sober

so my brain
and doctor didn’t know how to
handle me:

I am now
one mis-wired soul
held together by hope and
the few memories that remain.

What do I recommend for life?

 Find a doctor with whom you are
comfortable,

that listens to you,
to whom you can sing all your problems
so your anxiety doesn’t play

like a fiddle
and you are in harmony with

your body.

 Go to the dentist so your teeth
don’t jiggle like an un-played piano,
keys loose,

wires out of tune,
melody irretrievably lost.

Find someone or something to love
full-bodied

and do it proudly,
whose care and respect for you
is enduring and endearing.

Cuddle and hug daily.

Listen to the natural world;
let it surround you with serenity.

Repair yourself;

allow others to aid

in that mending;
allow them time to mold themselves

anew

as well.

 You are not who you were,
            but who you have become.

 Be the story-teller of your own song.

Be original and assertively authentic,
your voice sonorific enough to be heard,

whether it twangy or soothing,
sonorous or off-beat,

country or city,
bizarre or sad or modern or antique.

Be you, for we are all broken,

and yes,
you are enough.

 

 Tansy Julie the Soaring Eagle Paschold
11.6.24