Portrait of a Crone
Her thinning hair
crown of her years
she wears in pride
the Hag, the Hagia,
the Hallowed one.
Her wise blood kept within
unspilled in menses
feeding her spirit.
Wrinkles dance ageless patterns
around her eyes - mirroring wisdom
around her mouth - speaking the truth.
Her neck sags softly
she naysays the peddlers
crowding to embalm her
with scalpels and collagens
with pastes, patties and powders
to quell and conceal her power
waxing with each waning moon.
The celebrated crowned crone
centuries old oracle
of human tribes.
Izabel Sonia Ganz
October 12, 1997
Quitting time
Since my resignation
from the position
of General Manager of the Universe
I no longer try to run it
expecting it to
follow my orders
conform to my rules and regulations
dance to the beat of my drum.
I am no longer responsible
for the destruction of the planet
vanishing species
all the crime and violence
the religious right
government circuses
for traffic jams
and jerks posting in newsgroups.
Next I am getting ready
to chuck the solemn robes
I have worn for years
as Chief Supreme Justice.
Some days even before breakfast
I would utter a few judgements
pass a verdict or two
and declare a sentence.
But before the flapping gown
joins the pounding gavel
on the bonfire
I fully intend
to issue a final order
granting executive pardon
to myself.
Izabel Sonia Ganz
October 15, 1998
Published in "Unlikely Stories" (A Collection of Literary Art)
For my granddaughters
Honor your anger
protect its fire
the very flame of life
use it wisely
so that you may dance
on the graves
of the enemies
that challenge you by day
or sneak in at night.
Hold safe the seed
of your anger
so that it may grow
bloom
mature
and explode
at your bidding
scattering your foes
into ashes
be they outside
or within you.
Izabel Sonia Ganz
Oct.31, 1998
Published in "A Writer's Choice Literary Journal"
