Thursday, September 3, 2020

WE MUST VOTE! We must caucus. We must defeat the evil poisoning us all. And never give up our power. The Fate of our country, the fate of our world depends on our unity across race class and culture.


Women Breaking Through


Women are breaking through the bitter darkness,

After centuries of the patriarchy that stole

the Mother Right;

Millennia of misogynist and cultural struggles,

Against poverty, persecution, inquisition, rape,

Genocide, slavery.

Destruction of indigenous cultures,

Spirituality, languages continue;

As does the extinction of species, and the poisoning of the planet.

Women need to come forward

to rebalance the forces of life with the children of the world


May we speak in one unified multicultural voice of peace,

Preservation and protection…

 we will break through…


Women Breaking Through © Toni Truesdale 1998



Saturday, August 22, 2020

Deep Woods

There was a place, and is there still;

Overgrown with tangled webs, wildflowers amid spiraling vines.

Ancient mythic images stand in solitary shadows,

Crumbling and cooling in the deepest shades cast by the sun.


The path runs through caverns and ruins

Travelled by foolish children,

For the garden invites them into a magic game.

An invitation few adults would venture to accept

Into this abandoned and dangerous solitude.


I followed this strange path,

As a child I followed the path.

Skipping into sanctuary

Lured by the magnet of abandoned trees with green apples

Left to rot under unpruned trees.

And the scent of honeysuckle.


Moss grew on staid, standing water of reflecting pools

Dimly redirecting the obstructed sky.

Hardly mirroring my face as I searched for little fish, tadpoles and lilies.


Perseus stood for eternity holding the head of Medusa endlessly squirming stone snakes,

I was awed and avoided him gingerly.

Athena minus a limb or two presided with authority.


Pan guarded the entrance of a tiny tunnel,

That one small child could enter fearfully.

Yet, spirits seemed to hover indulgently,

Keeping safe the wandering children attracted into the sweet solitude.


My favorite entrance was to sneak around the big stone gatehouses;

To dance by the bluebells

Into a cavern, dark and scary;

Once brick oven set with steps that led up into

Arches flanked by benches

Surrounded by the stories of ancient statuary.

I always went that way.


A small white temple by the Brandywine

Was perched on the river’s edge;

On the falls that connected to the millrun.

For there was an island on our side of the river

That had its own path to that point.

I would dangle my toes into the water on either side

Watching the patterns form from

My slightest movement;

Rippling, swirling endlessly around the rocks molded by the waters.



I would play for solitary hours,

Singing to myself

Perhaps those ghosts of those that died before

Heard my childish voice.


I wondered as a girl

If the river would know me later.

So intimate were we.

For time was insignificant here.


So, when I dreamed of the iron bridge many times;

I had to cross back, as a woman

And return to the garden of secrets.


I stole into it again and again

To find the same path as my girl child;

To put again my feet on familiar trails,

That years made more tangled than before.


Travelling the road backwards,

I reclaimed the child;

So pure in spirit,

Yet aware with all senses

Of what was before;

In this special timeless space;

This secret place

Now wandering paths inside.

Thursday, August 13, 2020

We will dance a circle around our Earth

Earth Dance

by Toni Truesdale


In celebration, many folk people,

Still dance in ceremonial thanksgiving, passages;

Spring welcome to the earth for sustaining life.

For traditional cultures still follow

The paths set by ancestors;

 Back to the ways of original instructions,

Brought by intermediaries between the Creator and humans.

Dancers are seen in the first art on stones;

For reverence is shown the rhythm of prayer, ritual and dance

All over the world.


Copyright 2013


Saturday, August 1, 2020

I bear witness

I Bear Witness

I bear witness

To the new holocaust.

I mark the passing death; each day, every minute.

I bear witness to the innocents,

Humans of the Americas

I bear witness to

The global grief of the missing ones loved.

So many tears, a miasma of silent suffering.


I bear witness

To the indifference of the powerful

The vindictiveness of willful neglect

The turning away, blindly, deafly; so not to see.

And, those that bear the dangerous task of saving some lives from

Refrigerated trucks for corpses awaiting

150,00 burial plots and counting.


I bear witness

To the many afraid to look

Into the eyes of the city

Into the tears of the plains…

Those forced to work in poisonous places,

Immediate hunger and homelessness. hopelessness

There are those that refuse see the fear in each protective parent.


I bear witness to those demanding human sacrifice, again

For an impotent, greedy false god.


I bear witness as do you.




Friday, July 24, 2020

As we search for meaning in this difficult time; the truth emerges painfully

Angel of Truth:

Spirit of Reconciliation

by Toni Truesdale


Peace cannot be absolute,

Until the Process is complete.

The courageous steps towards reconciliation are

Full of pain, tears, heartbreak...


The anguish needs recognition;

And responsibility accepted,

Before absolution.

For perception of historical grief

Must be believed, by all...


Sincere reparations,

May be inexact;

But told with unconditional truth,

To have an amnesty in equality;

And in forgiveness, peace.


T. Truesdale copyright 2009



Monday, June 29, 2020

we are only the tinest of fragments of the universe hardly a mote in the eye

Falling into Stars

We are all here in this dreaming moment,

Looking into a boundless night;

That may compel a vertigo

To return into the womb of cosmic creation.

Evolving from the infinite stars

Fragments of motion

Collide with matter to

Spin fragments into motion,

Fused further by random ubiquitous forces;

Continually transforming millennia

Into tentacles of related beings that emerge

Into the ever-evolving universe.

Copyright T. Truesdale 2018

Monday, June 8, 2020

For the Mothers...

"I've been in the storm so long,
I've been in the storm so long, children,
I've been in the storm so long,
Oh give me little time to pray."

My son, my flesh
Despised and degraded, sold away
Deprived the love of family.
Whose blood created the wealth of the nation;
Lynched and Defiled.
We hear the cry echoed this time in the streets