Indignities Made Majestic


Indignities Made Majestic


Flashing her joyless smile

of random lip motions, the tiny old lady

glared down a thunderstorm,

getting louder and thinner

and more like stone as she went.


Festooned in flung off femininity

like multicolored windmills,

her whole panoply of life

was a parade of indignities

made majestic in its tapestry

of loss, profound and painful

absence stitched all around.


She shuffles to the cliffs that border

the end of the world

where the dust did not dare

to settle or lift

the pain of mortality.

Glad was she when her world went silent.



Brenda Mox

A weaver of words, a pirate of tales, this great-grandmother sits on the shore at the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay, Virginia, USA deeply digging my way to a poem or two.  I have had my pearls published in Eber and Wein Anthology, Blaze Vox, Wingless Dreamer, Neo Poet and Bewildering Stories. 

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