“Navigating a Moment"

 

Destruction on a daily basis

Leaves me shell-shocked

But that’s the goal

 

Rip and tear families apart

By screaming, “Other!”  

Over and over and over again

 

Demonize educators and scientists

By screaming, “Other!”

Over and over and over again

 

Stifle art, silence music, and dictate words

By screaming, “Other!”

Over and over and over again

 

Battered and bruised

I retreat

And feel shame

I take on blame for their abuse

My stilted words dying on the page

 

How do I navigate this moment?

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Pruning to Propagate”

 

            Earlier this week, I spotted a Swedish Ivy at HEB that dangled possibilities before me. Years ago, these plants filled hanging baskets that adorned our back redwood lattice. Draping with Spider Plants and Boston ferns, their delicate glossy scalloped leaves contrasted to the spikey Spider’s hardiness. They sport a soft white or mauve flower each spring and fall. Of course, I added the ivy to my grocery purchases and found a nice spot for this piece of memory in the front yard. As they propagate easily, all I need is one to begin a new line of a forgotten favorite. A few clippings placed into a Mason jar of water, and roots will sprout soon.

            Inside, my three Pothos dragged down to the floor. Winter’s unrelenting freezes showed no mercy to the ones housed in our small greenhouse, and outside only three or four pots now sprout in resilient defiance. Instead of cut flowers adorning the dining room table, the promise of more Pothos baskets sits in filtered light.

            My Jade became leggy over the last few weeks. I lopped them off and have their cuttings set aside to cure. All of the Jade will shift outside to take advantage of our longer and hotter days and more sunlight to spur their growth. My troubles with Jade come from ignorance on my part, but this year my research should result in new growth for old plants and new plants that thrive.

            My focus on nurturing each of these plants stems from a need to control something in the world around me. Every day, something new becomes endangered as our current regime slices brutally through our democratic rights. Propaganda’s incessant wail forces me to retreat to my garden where I can prune to propagate promises for tomorrow.
 
Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman               

“Not Just a Sandwich”

         The women who live across the street from us built a beautiful wooden front porch and placed matching rockers, side-by-side, on their inviting veranda. Every day, their two cats lounge in this area until they decide to cross the street and sit smack in the middle of our front yard, sending Bridget and Koi into a barking frenzy. Once they know they’ve disrupted the dogs’ day, they saunter back across the street. This intrusion into my day marks the only impact having lesbian neighbors has upon my life.

These women do not threaten my property. Their well-kept home doesn’t detract from our neighborhood. They mow the yard and trim the hedges. They keep the house neatly painted, have huge plants on their new front porch, and sweep the leaves from their driveway every fall. They live a simple life just like everyone else on our street.

         These women do not threaten my marriage. If the laws changed and allowed them to marry, so that after twenty years together they could have the same legal rights that David and I enjoy as a couple, it wouldn’t ripple into my life in any way. But their lives would change for the better.

These women do not threaten my ability to hold onto personal beliefs. They smile when they see me and wave with friendliness. They don’t ring my doorbell to hand me a pamphlet and try to convert me. They simply want to live their lives happily and openly.

         These women do not threaten my family. Having the right to publically and legally declare their love and commitment wouldn’t take anything away from my family. It may add one more drop to the tolerances that I hope our society fosters.

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman