Winter Trees

Roots slumber in the deep

As snow and ice fashion

Fingers and frozen jackets

On gray and spindled branches

What a day to be a tree

No having to juice the leaves

No woodpeckers or wasps

Just frost and silence

With maybe a squirrel or two

Hunting seeds and bird feeders

The twigs cradle the wind

With bending and waving

The sun soothes its tips

And feeling grateful for rest

It stands in stoicism

Until the riot of spring


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway


Strange Dreams

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore

There are pixels and dots and screens

That don’t mean virtually anything

I feel the weight sinking into the ocean

Falling further down increased pressure

Fill my senses and then I drown

I find myself sitting on a chair

On an iceberg

With a guinea pig in a cage

What in the world is that supposed to mean

There’s no divine message there

Just confusion and movement

Running from one space to another

Until I come to consciousness

And I find myself very alone in the darkness


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway

A New Form

A new form is the old form

Buried beyond our own skin.

Taking what we know and throwing

It away to pursue not knowing.

Looking outside of us to gain

Insight of what is within us.

For how do we know anyhow?

We only learn, and learn,

And learn again for another time.

Do we ever reach the peak

Only to find another well?

The new song is the same song

Sung millions of times in the caves.

The new wisdom has been around

Since the age of humankind,

And maybe even longer than that.

Survive, multiply, repeat, and die.

Only our neurotransmitters

Can imagine peace, speak in silence.

Only our synapses

Can conjure hate, greed, domination.

We are forever ignorant

Of the elegant clockwork

Of random interactions

As we eat another sound bite

And turn sanity into stupor.

We return to the hominids

And await a new answer,

Shiny and just born

Out of the womb of the same question.


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway

The Unseen Revolution

Are we strong in our conviction

To withstand our eviction

From what keeps us entitled

To whatever isn’t vital?

Are we willing to give our all

Even if we’re bound to fall

And rise and stumble repeatedly

For the sake of an unseeded tree?

Are we steadfast in resolution

To incur an unseen revolution

Where we raise our children high

To battle when we are nigh?

Only the heart knows and the soul bleeds

To cover our strife and daily needs,

Yet we bleat and breathe of freedom

To those who lack or need some.

Let us look to the deep within.

Let the ones who are without sin

Throw the stones that they see fit,

Knowing we will be under it

And buried in mistakes and regrets

Do we sigh and sadly say, “Not yet.”


© 2018 Valerie Hathaway

The Beauty Trap

I watched the false prophets on TV.

They churn words of popular thoughts,

Creating a feeding frenzy amongst themselves.

Yet behind the flawless makeup and

Tightening undergarments,

There is an unspoken lie.

Thousands of women

Lose their lives to be thin and look pretty.

No amount of foundation,

No amount of “healthy food,”

Can hide an investment into insanity,

Leaving emaciated bodies and souls in their wake.

No perfectly coiffed hair,

No majestically tailored clothing,

Can cover an ugly, shark heart

And the grabbing hands for more money

From souls desperate for completion.

We are going into our own ruin

For this so-called “beauty” trap.

We are crying to be seen,

Yet freedom rests in our own skin.

Liberty is our natural hair,

Our dimples and bellies,

Our vessels or nurturing blood.

There is no concealer

When we are cherished for our veins,

For our generous, caring hands,

For our faces red with wisdom and promise.

Give back to each other

And not the liars on the money train,

For there will be a derailing

And false evidence will be revealed.


©2018 Valerie Hathaway



Winter Pondering

With lights upon the tree

And cheer we shine and sing.

Now gold has turned to gray

When the rest of winter brings

Blankets of angel feathers

And wind that whistles brisk

We sigh into our blankets

And reflect, regret, and miss.

Birds stay warm on wires

And chirp in the icy gale.

We make goals with purpose

And most of them we fail.

But stay steadfast in the warmth

Of fire and friendship tide

And listen to the old sage:

What comes out is what’s inside.

Take time for books and lotion.

Take time for love and dancing.

Take time to lay in bubbles.

Take time to sooth and dream.

For spring will follow with rain,

And tulips, haste and mirth.

Now is to wrap up in repose

And gently wonder in earth’s rebirth.


©2018 Valerie Hathaway