Author Archives: Amabel Kylee Síorghlas

Unknown's avatar

About Amabel Kylee Síorghlas

Writer, editor, & writing coach. English professor. Musician.

Solidago

Leave a reply

Solidago

Oh goldenrod, turned brown, your burling
seedheads, stalks withered.

Yet you stand upright beside
this morning’s damp ledge-stone.

I carried cans of water to your feet
all through the hot, bone-dry summer.

You rocked in the searing breeze,
bending toward the sun even so.

I’ve admired your late-summer blooms,
where the bees rubbed their yellow-coated legs.

Yesterday some hopeful rain finally splashed
down and soaked into the dusty ground.

Are your roots reaching outward
to extend your footprint for next year’s glory?

Illumination

Leave a reply 
I am the magnificent moon
a fertile daughter
on the barren surface
dark eyes pleading
lips full and round,
effulgent.

When I am full—
     I speak.

Don’t you see it? Do you see?

Everything is precious.
Time now for 
the fiercest protection
imaginable.

You gaze upwards . . .
my lips are moving
my eyes pleading.

You blink.
Shake
your head.

Wonder, 
am I mad
under the moon?

No. The sacred
daughter of the moon
speaks to the summer 
daughter standing barefoot 
in damp grass having left
her shoes inside.

I am the magnificent moon daughter
circling the Great Mother, casting
light in the rounds of days.
Starlit and sparkling
     floating
     on black velvet.

My lips move.

Don’t you see it?
     Look!

Daughters, we
are unbreakable.

Pregnant with possibility.
     Fierce in our fullness.

Perseverance in the Time of Bullies

Leave a reply

America, 91 days since the Trump regime took control (2.0)—To my fellow dissenters:
It’s a frustrating, frightening time. First, try not to let those anti-protest articles get to you. I know it can feel like a punch in the stomach after standing up for what you feel is right. Know that there are as many, if not more, pro-protest (or at least neutral) articles and news items. Those cheap shots the Right uses about the protests come from a position of weakness, because they cannot adequately defend their actions and values in light of the principles upon which we are protesting.

It’s a time of bullies. And cruelty. We have a big bully and a ring of bullies in the White House, supported by a growing bully culture. Bullies come from a position of inadequacy and weakness. They project that weakness outward and pick on others to comfort themselves into thinking that they are “strong.”

Be ready, too, for the cruelty and bullying to escalate—and as such, the attacks on the resistance/dissenters. It’s textbook schoolyard bully stuff. 

There is a phrase rising in the Right, you may have heard of it: “suicidal empathy.” Empathy in all forms is being vilified as weak, feminine, soft, etc. (Unless, of course, it’s empathy for one of their own…). 

Many people, from White liberal women, to Justice Amy Coney Barrett, to Pope Francis, are being attacked with this phrase, suicidal empathy. Those touting the phrase, like Elon Musk, try to justify it by saying something to the effect of, Oh, one can’t make good policy or decisions if one is too empathic or emotional. And journalists who are “both-siding” on this topic will point out the errors of the Left in the throes of too much empathy. 

I push back, and say, what I know in my heart is that empathy and compassion are the ROOT of all good decision-making and policy, as well as daily actions and words. And if you listen to the news stories today about the passing of Pope Francis, you will see this was his bedrock of being in the world.

Trust yourself. Trust your values. Know that standing up for what is morally and ethically right is not and has never been, nor will ever be easy. Especially as there is not always agreement on what is “moral.”

Imagine the risk and fear in the hearts of those who hid Jewish citizens from the Nazis? Rosa Parks as she took that seat on the bus? Remember Bloody Sunday, the one in Selma, Alabama, where Civil Rights marchers were attacked by police. The voices of history who’ve spoken up for empathy and justice, such as Jesus, MLK, and Abraham Lincoln (all three were assassinated). 

Speaking up—for human rights, civil rights, justice, Nature’s health and beauty, the rule of law, and democracy—is uncomfortable and it’s dangerous. BECAUSE it’s based in compassion, empathy, and love.  There is an old saying, “The antelope that stands out is the one that is taken [as in shot].” 

But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it. If we don’t stand up for what we know in our hearts to be right, then what the hell are we here for?

This is a time to put on our Biggest Big Person Pants. To stand up tall and strong. Speak out often and consistently against injustices here in our endangered America and across the globe. This is a time to persevere. 

Flood

1 Reply 
I am endless rain,
drowning dew,
a green-spored parasol
in tea-black soil.
I am a puddle on the surface
of grey-rock ledge
the slippery sheen of slate stone.
I’m coal black, wet
tree trunks with their patches
of vibrant, soft moss.
I’m the bass notes of green frogs,
the whir of toad songs,
night bugs mating on 
a screen door 
in porch light.
Ping-pong balls 
on a tin roof.

My city is gone.

I am soaking rain,
humidity my perfume,
curling hair frizz and
damp-showered skin.
I’m a shirt that sticks 
to slick backs.
Insistent like a deep-
tongued kiss. Languid, 
then lashing.

My city is gone.

I am a waterfall of rain,
a driving deluge, my
thunderous roar carving
new river banks and felling
shallow-footed tall white pines.
I keep midnight company,
create caverns out of concrete,
carry the refuse of humanity
from empty doorsteps.
I pour into their bottomless
secret places leaving
dark, murky, stinking pools. 

My city is gone.

I am a warning rain—
I am tree-trunk tangles on
railroad trestles,
a deep crevasse where you
used to drive home.
I carry mountains to
the other side of roads, 
twist bridges, spin cars
in river eddies.
I embrace the grit, 
scour it clean.

I feed on warmth,
build higher and higher into
ever-thicker clouds
heavy, full, and ready
to utterly saturate earth’s
dry, thirsty deserts or
already-soaked spongy 
woodlands.

I mist
       sprinkle 
                 pour
      drum
             pound.

I never mourn—
not cities, not roads, not homes . . .
mud to the ankles,
precious memorabilia,
delayed plans,
lost dreams.

July 10, 2023, Vermont

Dropping into the Autumnal Equinox

Leave a reply

Rain drops drip, drip, splash, plummet earthward soaking into a rotten hollow log covered with lichen and mushrooms. The huge log is quietly decaying on the forest floor. No one notices. The carpenter ants have long since lost interest. Its hollows are too moist, now, for cozy dens for gray foxes or chipmunks. On its north side, a plush covering of luxurious green moss. It’s impossible not to reach out and run the palm of my hand over it, my fingers tickling the softest, greenest gift that nature has to offer me on this dark, rainy equinox morning.

Goodbye Night Sky

3 Replies

It’s nice that some folks will be able to be better connected to the Internet with Starlink around the globe. And what I am about to say is NOT meant to inspire guilt for using Starlink, but more to raise important existential questions. I am quite concerned about the number of satellites Elon Musk’s company, SpaceX, and other companies, including Amazon, will eventually be launching into low Earth orbit (LEO). Currently, according to an article in Science, and another article from CNBC, SpaceX has about 2,000 satellites in orbit, with FCC approval already for another 12,000. SpaceX has plans for a great many more satellites than that. There are predictions that eventually we could have 100,000 satellites in LEO. Hello, space junk!

Already, monetizing LEO is affecting the field of astronomy in significant ways. Astronomy is a key discipline for humans to sort out the mysteries of the universe and our place in it. SpaceX has put visors on subsequent satellites after the first outcry from both night sky viewers and astronomers. The visors help some, to the naked eye, but not perfectly. But they do not solve the interference in astronomy work. Other companies may not care about whether their satellites can be seen or not. As I’ve read, there is no global blueprint for fielding this issue.

Already I am noticing, shortly after evening falls, more wobbly, zigzagging satellites crossing my view of the stars. Sadly, much of humanity lives in so much light pollution now, they can’t see the stars. But for those of us that can, stargazing is an age-old human pastime that is important, I believe, for well-being. Seeing the Milky Way, constellations, shooting stars, and sometimes even the aurora borealis reminds us of the vastness of the universe, and keeps alive wonder and appreciation of beauty. The night sky reminds us that we don’t have all the answers for understanding how things work. In fact, on a grand scale, as Einstein liked to remind us, we know very little. Lastly, what of migratory species that navigate by stars? Do we know what interference this may have?

All of this begs the question: Who owns space? Doesn’t it “belong” to all living creatures on Earth? Do we have a right not to have the night sky obliterated by LEO objects? Really, if you get right down to it, space belongs to no one. Yet, there are also plans, in this revived space race, to sell off parts of the moon to the highest bidders for mining and other plunder.

We have so many difficult issues down here on the planet Earth, and we are floundering at solving them. Meanwhile, as this larger space issue is manifesting in the background, I fear no one is paying attention. If we can’t solve complex issues here—gun violence, climate change, starvation, war—how will we ever come to agreement on these questions about space, and saving our night sky?

Photo by Cliford Mervil on Pexels.com

We Just Really Wanted to Say, “No, We’re Not Insane”: 25 Ways I’ve Changed During the Pandemic, Going into Year Three!

Leave a reply

(Note: I acknowledge with gratitude that I can work from home and I have a nice place to “be” during this challenging time. I know that many, many people do not have that ability. I am also a dyed-in-the-wool introvert, which has had certain advantages.)

  1. I’m on a first-name basis with many of the animals, birds, amphibians, and insects around my house. Oh, and let’s not forget the plants. Who knew there was so much activity going on out there all day and night! It’s endlessly fascinating. 
  2. I’m on a first-name basis with even the A. Cavaticus spiders (aka Charlotte’s Web-type spiders) on my porch and in my woodshed. Let’s see … there was Shelob, and Mrs. Orb, and Lulu … Seeing the tiny babies, smaller than a pinhead, emerge from their beautiful apricot-colored egg sacs is now a spring “event.” Most of the wee beasties balloon away on the wind. And whomever stays, well, my arachnophobia is much less now.
  3. I detest bras. Who the hell invented the confounded things?? With the straps that slide off your shoulders over and over and over all day long? And the “support” system that causes undue pressure on the mid-spine of my back and my diaphragm in front? Egads. The best place for a bra is in the wood stove.
  4. I’ve started planning meals for the week, instead of gnoshing in a haphazard manner based on my mood or stress. Dinner is becoming no longer an afterthought. I investigate good recipes and cook good food! Because I eat better, I tend to go to bed earlier and get up earlier. Wow, the sun is really beautiful when it is just coming up … 
  5. I’ve reconnected in a meaningful way with a few treasured friends with whom I had lost touch, made some new friends, and lost touch with some “acquaintances” with whom I had no real connection. And I know my neighbors on my rural dirt road better than ever!
  6. My stack(s) of good books to read keeps growing. When I die, my monument will read, “My only regret is that I didn’t finish all the books I hoped to read.”
  7. I could tell you anything you want to know about Game of Thrones, Outlander, and Northern Exposure.
  8. I no longer dress up, unless it’s for myself on a special holiday. But I do occasionally experiment with wild outfits that speak to my soul. For who will see me? And if they do, do I care? Plus, I no longer care that I am aging and that is a relief.
  9. I gas up my car about once every 3–4 weeks, rather than once a week. I spend many fewer hours hunched over the steering wheel going god-knows-where. Why was I going so many places?? The only downside is that I did forget how many gears my standard-shift car has—was it 5 or 6? I had to look down (with a rush of anxiety) when I got on the highway one day! Oh, right, 6 gears.
  10. Okay, I’ll confess, after watching Emma Thompson’s sweet, funny movie, Last Christmas, I’ve decided that George Michael was a genius songwriter and I’m just loving many of his tunes. I would not have been caught dead listening to him when younger—I was waayyy too cool! It’s such a relief not to be “cool” anymore.
  11. I haven’t had to endure a mindless conversation with someone I barely know at a party in, oh, say … two and a half years? And that is just ducky with me. 
  12. My work has gone from my small editing business, and teaching at a college, and working at a bookstore, and substitute teaching, and gardening for hire, to … just my editing business. Whew. How the heck did I do all that before? That was insane!
  13. Speaking of gardens, I’ve been reconsidering the little patch of earth I call home and I’m growing more trees. Just because it’s a good thing to do.
  14. I’m also attempting to shrink the lawn by letting a lot of it grow into meadow (easier said than done, actually, I’m finding). And I’m transitioning a perennial bed that is an “upkeep nightmare” into a pleasant, simple herb garden. Here’s to a more biodiverse, less-labor-intensive relationship with the land. Oh, and hmmm … invasive plant species? Who knew there were so many?! Well, I’ve discovered that they are nearly impossible to eradicate, so I’ve decided to live with them. Let’s just call them “nonnative.”
  15. My cat and I have a lot of different games we play. One favorite is the yoga mat rolled into a tube and a ping pong ball rolled down the tube to where she sits waiting at the other end. Who needs expensive cat toys?
  16. Man, do I look forward to spring more than ever now, because it means I can socialize outdoors! Patios and decks of friends and walks and hikes are a lifeline.
  17. Six feet is just about right. Don’t come any closer, pal. (But I will spontaneously pay for your coffee if you happen to be in line behind me, because random acts of kindness are much-needed.)
  18. At least with the mask, I can have coffee breath when out in public and no one notices. 
  19. I’ve discovered a lot of things in my house that I forgot that I had!
  20. I’ve discovered I want to get rid of a lot of things in my house.
  21. I have a recurring dream of downsizing to a tiny house.
  22. I dream a lot about going places and being in crowds where people are not wearing masks. Or, I’ve forgotten mine. I guess this is the new “naked in public” dream?
  23. I’ve increasingly eschewd the grim morning news most days in favor of kitchen dancing to my latest favorite song. I listen to news just often enough to reaffirm that, “Yup, we’re going to hell in a handbasket.”
  24. “Risk aversion” is now a “thing” that I think about. And wow, is everyone all over the map on their risk comfort levels! I suppose that has always been true, but it’s been illustrated in bold colors the past year or so. Now it’s not just do our interests and personalities line up, but do our “Covid comfort levels” align?
  25. Homemade toll house cookies are proof there is a higher power. Enough said.