All the ill-informed
Etiquette lessons
From privileged experts,
The fashion do’s and don’ts,
The tips on being
Better than the rest
Fall away
At a certain age.
I’ve tried on lots of things
Over the years.
Only a few stuck
And are tattooed
to my inner skin.
I like it that way.
Mostly, though,
I’ve schooled myself to stop
Looking at others’ reactions
as a mirror.
I don’t really give a damn.
Being a critic merely
doesn’t make you right.
No need to go full-blown
Curmudgeon, either.
Getting older shouldn’t be
A stiffness.
It’s about opening.
Acknowledging.
Clear-sighted seeing
What’s good, what’s not,
And what’s inbetween.
Above all, what is me.
It’s a fluid movement,
A flexibility
That stretches broadly
(if awkwardly),
Swirls and dances, yelling,
“I’ve got nothing to prove—
I’m past caring.
You can keep your favorites.”
Time to be my own favorite, for a while.
- Meredith Alexander Kunz
Poem: Casting Stones
Alone, casting stones
At my own empty glass houses,
I play both creator and critic
Inside my too-full head.
I catch myself in conversation
With that part of me
That will always
Leave a negative review.
And no matter how many times
The management responds
With apologies, promises, flowers,
That voice keeps up its unsettling braying,
Flaying what’s left of me
Until the lifeforce is gone...
Diminished to a wannabe
Too fearful to even try out
For an also-ran.
Now, I sit and wait for that
Mythical, perfect appreciator
To magically come my way,
Linger at the threshold,
Taking it all in…
And to pronounce
All this to be good,
To be just
What it should.
- Meredith Alexander Kunz
Poem: Shelter in Place
Heads and bodies in sync, We sit quietly on our sofa as a loud wind smashes into the house, deflecting into a dozen paths. Inside, we stay “sheltering in place,” As if we've avoided something, And yet. The air we breathe is shared air. The water and plants and sky, shared. The streets and paths and yards, The power lines, the storm drains. When I venture out to take a walk I see a neighborhood alive With couples walking dogs, Dads pushing strollers, Grandmas weeding, Kids riding scooters. A rootedness has set in that mimics a community. But when I pass they shift away from me— And then I remember again. Together, apart— Letting the wind blow a barrier between us In this strangest of strange times. - Meredith Alexander Kunz, April 2020
Poem: A Balance
Take one breath after the other Make one move after the other Say one word after the other Life is a series of repetitions Some brilliant Some simple Some mindful Some unknown, uncounted (As the length of a life can be Measured in breaths, heartbeats) And in abundance, These repeats make Powerful drumbeats, Rhythms that, together, Break the great silence And fan out across space, The mysterious ripple of us On this large uncertain planet - Meredith Alexander Kunz (Written in January 2020)
Poem: Pandemic Moon
Looking down at us From an enormous distance A cold piece of stone Dust-covered, desert, barren— Yet from where I sit, a beacon. A nightlight of comfort For those of us Up all night, Too tired to fall asleep— Too wakeful to stop moving, Moment to moment Unable to cease, Our minds awhirl, We look up— Past windy branches And threads of cloud, fog, A bright circle in the sky. Up there: truly alone. A paradise in time of pandemic. But: it is an inhuman place, Designed to kill visitors. No, it’s a dream (or nightmare) To believe that humans, No matter the risk they pose, Hate they bring, anger they provoke, Can live without each other. And so we look up, from down below. A friend once said I must be a perfectionist Because I loved round things And wore, in school, a round ring Filled with a large orb of stone. She traced it with her finger, And said, “You see? It never stops. It represents Infinity.” - Meredith Alexander Kunz, April 2020
Poem: Art Teacher
Art Teacher A constant beat in the background Increasing in volume, urgency— It courses through her like blood pressure. Constricting against her heart, A bound captive— Holding and pulsing, Yelling, struggling— Go, do! Take nothing and make it SOMETHING! I won’t release My grip Until it’s done Her paint bleeds, Violent splotches A crime scene— And harmonious, Sinuous lines A faint pulse It’s all or nothing. Either this thing is worthy of CREATION Or it’s a naïve attempt at purity That should have been left unborn To teach Was of necessity (Rent, food, car, and all) And when those hazy faces, Restless legs, oversized hands Appeared in her classroom She ducked out at lunch For a smoke And wondered Why they would look to her To tell them What ART IS— Seemed terrible hubris Maybe dangerous too— How to explain it? “The power to create Is universal; But the will to Give birth to the new— That’s different. It’s the glimmer of a cure For an unyielding ache Inside of you.” - Meredith Alexander Kunz, 2020
Poem: Beginner’s mind
Beginner’s mind comes naturally to me. My mind often Feels spacious, almost blank. It’s like that sensation When you first awake. You’ve forgotten everything You ever knew. I love that moment. Then quickly I deflate When all my cares Start creeping in, Oppressing me once again After I regain consciousness. Here’s the downside, and why it is scary: I fear that I’m too often in a fog. That I may just be losing everything I ever knew. Once upon a time, I was a historian Who knew facts. Dates, people, places… Treaties, leaders, battles, laws… Births, deaths, ascensions to the throne.... It’s mind blowing now To consider how much I knew then, And now don’t. But: Maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe it’s just that I’ve always loved starting From first principles. I have the revolutionary’s bent, To begin fresh and new, Discard old ideas, traditions. I like to go to the heart of a question And then ask more questions, Forge novel connections, Brainstorm unheard-of answers. In any case, I have realized over the years That it is not how much we know. It’s not even (entirely) who we know. It’s not our position or job. It is our connection to one another… It is seeing and recognizing right from wrong… It is raising awareness of each step, each choice… It is working towards courage, wisdom, justice. We can always stop and ask: Is it in harmony with my values? Does it help me to become better, To do the right thing? Every day, every one, a new opportunity. - Meredith Alexander Kunz, 2020
Poem: In His Neighborhood
In His Neighborhood He’d never make an efficiency Out of a human being— Never label, categorize, or Cast disdain on “less than”— Beyond the disposable culture, He saw something that others Overlooked or explained away— Every child an individual Unique creation, to be loved From the start, no fix needed— A patient but firm belief In innate human goodness And, above all, the hidden beauty Of the needy, frightened, Uncertain souls of children— And of the lifelong child within - Meredith Alexander Kunz, © 2020
Poem: I Refuse
I Refuse “Check if your veins Are blue or green,” The makeup ad said. “That will show If you’re cold, warm, Or—if you can’t tell— neutral.” As usual, my body can’t decide. Some days blue. Some green. Some purple-ish. It’s always been that way, Never wanting to pick. To decide is to limit. And so I persist In not selecting. These days, facing The number of my years And graying of my temples Signifies boundaries of time, Paths followed And others left behind. And yet. When I look in the mirror I can’t really decide. Old, young? Filled with promise Or inching closer To the end? Or both? Yes. Both. I refuse to choose. - Meredith Alexander Kunz © 2020
Poem: My Monarchy
My Monarchy A queenly mood has overtaken me As I reign over this suburban street corner Sweeping my coat past a passing dog And encircling my hair in a silk scarf I channel a woman who gets her way— Yet for a long, long while, I didn’t have a “way” It’s taken my own internal coup A revolution against the ancien régime To find this unexpected monarch-in-waiting And draw her gracefully to the surface Now, no place is too mundane to show her off, Even this damp intersection on a drab street— It’s nowhere, but I’ll dress it up with a feeling Of knowing as I stride along— almost nobly - Meredith Alexander Kunz © 2019
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