aegis

in stately glory,
golden ridges reflect
resilience, resplendence,
having fought off
mid-day’s heat
and shivered in
the chill of
star-studded blackness
millennia upon ever-recurring
millennia. 

each one holds within
its bosom
tales of past
heaving, convulsing,
shuddering, until
persevering peaks,
sculpted curves,
cavernous canyons,
were formed, now
inviting reverence.

each one bids us
marvel, catch our
breath, offers this grandeur
as wordless prayer,
filling every fiber
of our being
until our unity
with this enormity
folds us into its sacred
space.

***

© Julia Penner-Zook, 2019
Photo Credit: Julia Penner-Zook
Twitter: @J_Pennz
Instagram: @j_penner_zook

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double exposure

Dazzling color drains
from expansive 
horizon, no longer
dancing with brilliance,
burdened, as a sky during
prolonged gray rain —

heaven weeping
through grief
and loss,
questioning
existence, being,
belonging. 

Sound fades;
tonal qualities
slide into deeper
registers, finally
slipping into
silence  

so profound
its transcendence seeps
into innermost hollow —
its salve soothes,
embraces,
embalms.

Motion slows,
adjusts to suit
current mood
which commands
no further activity.
stillness.

where frenzy
once reigned,
candle’s burst of
flame is relinquished,
replaced by awakened
mystery. 

Who am i when weary,
porous vessel gives way
to one that follows?
when music morphs
into wind’s whisper? 

when grasping turns
to discover serenity’s
benediction?
is this still me, or is this
resurrection?
 

***

© Julia Penner-Zook, 2019
Photo Credit: hieu vo via unsplash.com
Twitter: @J_Pennz
Instagram: @j_penner_zook

She Is Woman

She is woman — a woman of
courage, purpose, perseverance.
She does not buckle before
those who tell her to keep
still.

She may never appear in headlines
or walk a red carpet;
she’s not signed a tantalizing
contract, crooned on local radio,

or been verified on Twitter.

Yet her voice holds authority for
she has embraced life — not hidden from,
denied, or vilified it, but filled her

bosom with its lacerations and losses
without shame. 

Grit and grime have etched deep
canyons into visible surfaces,
gouged ravines into the caverns of
her soul creating a permeable silhouette
of hope

which invites all to
lean in, listen closely,
choose the wisdom she
carries within her humble

breast. 

She may live with a stigma
foisted upon her by others which
she relentlessly rejects, for
no aggressor will wield such
power

over her. She will rise; she will square
her shoulders, draw from her sisters,

call for her tribe and together they
wrestle and struggle, weep and cry out
until the heavens weep, too.

Drenched with the tears of angels
she will turn her face into the storm,
welcoming the ugly force which
sneers at her davidic frailty against its

bloated power,

— power that is insignificant
in the presence of strength.
When strength, borne of adversity,
fashioned in the crucible of the

night 

meets power in the arena,
all hold their breath. Power preens,
struts, taunts, humiliates while
strength stands its holy ground
without fear.

***

© Julia Penner-Zook, 2019
Photo Credit: Julia Penner-Zook
Twitter: @J_Pennz

Instagram: @j_penner_zook

free fall

what can outweigh
the comfort granted by
connection to
someone,
someplace,
something? 

i try to convince myself that

being associated
with people of prestige,

owning something of value,
proudly strutting achievements

will inevitably impress,
and thereby

insulate me from
being just another formless

apparition in a long
procession of those disfigured
by the scars of
insignificance.

it’s hard for me to grasp

why i should
clamor to escape the
tumble into the
ranks of the
rejected,

neglected,

strategically unselected,
minimally protected,
while others flaunt
their graces, unnatural
faces masking

traces of pain.

much more terrifying is the
smooth seduction,
sneering suppression,

sanctimonious subjugation
of the swirling river
of domination.

i’m not sure 

i can ever
bear the blithe
banter of those

immersed in a
mind-numbing,
purposeless plot. 

i hear disbelieving gasps,

palpable horror,
superficial condolences
without tangible expression save
half-hearted lifeline thrown.
but i also hear
affected laughter

behind my back as
i fall, fall, fall,
landing – alive and

supremely satisfied –
in an oft disparaged
but intensely inviting couloir

without security,
yet bathed in the warmth
of generosity,
mutuality,
authenticity,
meaning.

***

© Julia Penner-Zook, 2019
Photo Credit: Sebastian Voortman via pexels.com
Twitter: @J_Pennz

Instagram: @j_penner_zook

faces in the room

 

slippery as an eel, pain
slides into the crevices of the soul
while no one is looking —

we’re too consumed with life,
light, and love to notice.
it introduces itself surreptitiously
demurely, feigning politeness,
yet entering unbidden into every
inner space it finds. 

without announcement
it shows its face brazenly in

the classroom, the cloakroom,
the dorm room, the locker room.

we expect it in
the emergency room

the recovery room,
the hospital room;

even the birthing room
is no sheltered space,

as birth cannot survive without
some element of death.

but can we see it in
the boardroom, the situation room,

the courtroom, the green room,
the ballroom, the bedroom,
the club room, the playroom? 

it gains entry without media
pass, security clearance, or

fingerprint identification. 

it simply is. 

we can armor up,
power up, ban it,
subdue it, belittle it,

even try to
hide it. 

but this will be an all consuming fight;
one which has an assured outcome.
we cannot conquer pain, cannot
win against it, cannot
eradicate nor deny it. 

it simply is. 

must pain be feared, avoided,
circumvented regardless the cost?
must we cower in a corner

when its draped features appear
in our room, at our
elbow? 

 or can we pull back the veil,
study the contours of its
shape, tracing its wrinkles,
its jagged edges, its jarring
lessons laced with venom? 

can pain have another face other than
the one we hurriedly dismiss, deny,
numb, disregard as deadly?

can it be a window into another
realm instead of a bed of nails which

utterly destroys, devouring
those innocent or guilty
in one mammoth swipe? 

can we bear to
offer pain a seat at our table,
resolving to stop denying
our own shadow, no longer

hiding our vulnerabilities, always
pretending to be above the fray?

can we examine pain
like a researcher, dissect it
as we would in a laboratory?
maybe we can dialogue with it

to lessen its grip on our being,
paying heed to its origins,
objectives, feeling its

talons. 

when we do,
we find we are not consumed
nor minimized,
we can stand tall, even if
briefly.

we cannot avoid every room
infiltrated by pain any more than
we can participate in life
while holding our breath.

we either
embrace or eschew,
deliberate or disparage,
shrivel in fear
or resolve to rise with
fortitude, gaining
sustenance in life and death.

***

© Julia Penner-Zook, 2019
Photo Credit: taha ajmi via unsplash.com
Twitter: @J_Pennz

Instagram: @j_penner_zook

there are five…

five basketball players
on the court,
five fingers on each hand,
five senses to bless our
days with sensual delights, 

five interlocking rings—
proud olympians’ coveted symbol,
and five golden rings
adding verse to merry
holiday tune.

there are five sides
to a geometric figure,
five gleaming points
to artists’ star which lights
velvety sky.

five. 

they lie face down
soaked in blood still warm
as SWAT team storms
the door of a bank
in a sleepy town.

#CynthiaWatson

five.

five women who
loved their work, were

pillars in their community,
devoted mothers, grandmothers, partners –

gone.

#DebraCook

five. 

five at one time,
in one place,
without warning

without time to bid farewell.
taken — without cause 

#JessicaMontague

except that hate is
strong and mocks the

song of peace on
earth. five. gone.
because one man

#MarisolLopez

wished to fulfill
a dream to kill —
one man chose to
don protective armor

which no victim could access,

#AnaPiñonWilliams

and command women
to do his bidding
one final time –
so he could maim
and destroy. 

five.

gone. 

forever. 

#CynthiaWatson
#DebraCook
#JessicaMontague
#MarisolLopez
#AnaPiñonWilliams
#SebringFlorida
#Remembered
#Honored

© Julia Penner-Zook, 2019
Photo Credit: Steve Johnson via unsplash.com
Twitter: @J_Pennz
Instagram: @j_penner_zook

 

at the edges

i complain, lament,
because i know we can do
so much better than 

have children murdered
in parking lots or die on
borders without cause.

my soul is tattered
by stories of girls in dread
fear of parents, or 

partners, priests, pastors —
all of whom could choose to bless,
believe, bestow wings.

my troubled spirit
cannot rest until convinced
that we can heal each

faded, fragmented,
frayed dream, now dormant, suppressed
within once wide-eyed 

child.

***

© Julia Penner-Zook, 2019
Photo Credit: Bhaskar Agarwal via unsplash.com
Twitter: @J_Pennz
Instagram: @j_penner_zook