“A TIME WHEN I DID NOT GIVE UP ON MY WRITING, MUSIC, AND ART”
DEAR UNSEALED,

I have many times,
In my life of 74 years of rhyme
And reason roadblocks
of people have said to me, “What?”
I struggled as a woman, born in 1949,
Of the boomer generation of time.
I was told I could not do this and that,
Tit for tat,
I proved them wrong,
As I write my songs
Of life’s journey
To eternity
And beyond the box thinking of patterns of life
As I continue my strife
At 74 years old
I have been told.
I survived many love relationships,
Time after time sailing the ships,
Across the clouds, the sea, the mountains of earth
As I tread on a new birth
Of still writing and creating art of sorts
Of time and space, of course.
I worked two or three jobs to go to college,
To obtain knowledge.
I attended a Microsoft coding class at 51.
That was my finale with that one.
Being told as a young woman I could not do that,
By certain people who did not know squat about that.
I struggled all my life with a positive attitude,
Of a subdue,
Nature of hiding my tears and feeling blue
As I walked on upon life’s path so true.
Despite my broken relationships with narcissistic pigs
I kept on walking to all my gigs.
Life moves forward along the journey,
Of many miles of this wild child.
Still eccentric, eclectic, boho hippie style
Of peace and love despite the tactics of so many trials
Of work, play, study, and broken narcissistic relationships in my life.
I still believe in me.
Let it be.
Me as a woman in the last decades of my life
And all the strife
I believe in rainbows, angels, and light,
Not to fright
The weary of treading through the jungle of the night,
But to look around at music, art, writing, and light.
I will not give up on my new goals,
Of this old soul
As I tread on with my writing, music, and art,
To make a new start
At 74
And as before
I tread through the desert, the storm,
Of life after so close to death as I was warned
After Long Covid attacked my organs and whatever it could
I survived major abdominal surgery at 72 in 2022.
I still want to live in a paint bucket of words and colors, as I should,
not give up,
Even when finances are low,
And still with health issues of dietary needs
I still drink from the cup of the mustard seed,
As my late Grandma Carrie Soleta implied,
“You are my baby girl, and you will survive.”
My faith is still strong,
As I sing life’s songs
Of blues, laughter, and survival
Of the known and unknown
Of life’s songs upon the sand to the beach
And along
It is faith in my creator and that mustard seed parable,
Teaching from my late Grandma Carrie Soleta.