January winds blow craziness
around my self.
I stand alone in a vortex,
snow spinning madly
around me,
tornadoes, ruby red shoes,
decadence, long gowns
flying swirling
in the madness
of the january storm.

I stand still
as the world spins,
as the bombs keep dropping,
as words cut deeply and people bleed,
hearts are broken and people grow older.

There is not much sun today,
no delightful sparks of sun induced joy.
Yet, I do what I must,
sometimes what I can.
I still search for a possibility.
I need a plan.
I am hiding from my fear.
It is not clear.

And so the merry-go-round circles.
I jump on it,
activism, participation,
a good lunch and ...
the winds are picking up again...

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