People don't realize that there's a war going on here, in this country. It's a quiet war that involves no guns. The bodies that fall are only the ideals, values, rights and liberties that have died and the blood that spills is American pride. 


The smaller victories, the strike-down of DOMA, for instance, cannot make up for the greater losses we are experiencing as time goes on–the Farm Bill and the redirection of government funds from programs designed to feed urban poor to agribusinesses, the strike down of the Voting Rights Act, Section IV leaving southern states able to gerrymander voting districts and impose all sorts of stringent, and often racially biased, voting laws unchecked by the federal government, the political targeting of Planned Parenthood that leaves many women without the ability to have abortions or access to affordable reproductive care, the rising costs of tuition that make it increasingly difficult for poor and middle-class students to have access to higher education, the fact that corporations have and continue to successfully influence people in Congress to eradicate the checks on corporations and business practices that are imperative for protection of the working class in this country...The list goes on and on. 


Wake up people. Please. I am frankly terrified of what the future holds. People do not think it possible that the great United States of America could ever become a dystopian society, but it can. When the masses are kept poor and uneducated, when government is allowed to become increasingly ubiquitous and corrupt and individual freedoms and rights are systematically stripped away in concert with decreased access to public assistance, it becomes ever more possible and ever more likely. Wake up! 

Gardens and Mats

Waking from a dream can be painful 
The abrupt transition from cushioned concepts 
To the sharp angles of literal life 
Can create an internal dissonance 
That has life-long detrimental effects 


Like the death of something beautiful 


His cutting, careless words 
Cleaved their way through her tender garden of dreams 
So quickly and cleanly 
It took a moment for her to feel the sting 
His crushing contempt ensured that nothing would be left to grow anew 
She looked around at the carnage 
Headless stalks 
Blooms in pieces 
Edges beginning to curl 
Colors fading 
And felt the tears begin 
Hot, helpless and hurt 


"Why would you want to be a stay-at-home mother? You'll never have anything. All the burden would be on your husband. That ain't fair. Why would you want to teach? You'll never make any money. You are smarter than that. You're just lazy Kris. You need someone to push you and motivate you to live up to your potential," he had said. 


She looked at the ground, struggling for composure 
Trying to breathe past the painful blockage in her throat 
She mustn't let him see her cry, she thought 
She mustn't let him know that he was killing her 


He carried on, oblivious to her pain 
Confidently cloaked in the mantle of experience that came from years she had yet to live 
Confident on the pedestal she had created for him 
He weaved his vision of what her future should look like 
A mat of dried stalks that she could sit upon, live upon 
The scene he painted on it left her cold with its artificial beauty 
Its limited scope left little room for anything but small, careful movements 


Money (just green and white paper) 
Fancy cars (just painted metal) 
A big house (just wood, glass, vinyl and brick) 
Clothes (just fabric) 
Jewelry (just stones) 


She blinked past her tears and in a very small voice told him he was right 
Of course he was 
This tall, unbending, cynical, older, educated man 
That had fallen into her life like a stone 
An act of God 


What was she at 21? 
Still green 
Bendable 
Uncertain 
© All Textual Rights Reserved By Kristiana Bennett 5/18/13

Divided