The offerings

Hands of Offering

Hands of Offering

Where there are tears,

offer relief.

Where there is despair,

offer belief.

Where there is darkness,

offer your light.

Where there is injustice,

offer human rights.

Where there is loss,

offer a shoulder.

Where there is a spark

offer to smolder.

Where there is plenty,

offer to share.

Where there is anguish,

offer repair.

Where there is emotion,

offer your being.

Where there are shackles

offer the freeing.

Where there is chaos,

offer a peace.

Where there is frustration,

offer release.

December 14, 2014

I apologize for the delay in posting. For someone that likes to spend time contemplating the Universe, volunteering on the fly, putting my hands “in the dirt” when it comes to getting a project done, I have been doing just that.

On Saturday, 12/13/14, I spent a bit of time with my husband, snuggled up and cuddly which is rare in this wild month. Then I headed over to the Dollar General store to clean out their candy supply so The Red Cross would have give-away for the Christmas Parade that evening. I came up short. Not only did I come up short, but I had to put some back. By the time I got done, I had, and I wish I was exaggerating, 13 cents to my name. At 5PM, I met Miss Sharon Crane at the Red Cross and we got ready to move out and line up. It was a ton of fun. Here is a picture of one of my favorite people and me in my Viking hat made by Freddie Nechtow.

Miss Sharon Crane and me

Miss Sharon Crane and me

After the parade was done, I got home a bit after 10PM. Then I had to get signs made up for the protest the following day.  I posted them previously, so I won’t redo that, but you can find them here. That kept me up until 2:30AM.

On Sunday morning I was exhausted, but knowing that I’d get a million hugs at church, I got up, got dressed, and drove over to ORUUC where I attend. I gave many hugs because we found out that a beloved member of our church had passed away. The waves of sadness washed over my heart and spirit already weary from physical exhaustion. It felt heavy in my heart. My arms gave comfort to anyone who asked. I felt compelled to offer far more than usual, but the feelings were also far more than usual. It was odd.

After a brief time at home, I dressed and headed down to K-Town to meet with people I didn’t know to join them. Here are a couple of pictures from that day. My friend Laura stood so proudly on the corner. It filled me with great joy to see her courage. Although I don’t want to post her picture without her permission, I wanted to mention that I love her very much.

LTN121314 protestgroup121314Then on Sunday night, I rested with my husband. On Monday, I started working with Not In Our Town to get a large donation moved and begin sorting through it to find out which agencies would best benefit everything we have assembled. That is working in conjunction with TORCH (Trinity Out-Reach Center of Hope) to provide Christmas for those who have nothing to give but want to give something. When that part is done, all donations left over will be distributed to several area agencies to help fill their coffers with goods and clothing.

So, if it seems as if I’ve been neglect of my writing, there is, indeed, a good reason for that. I’ve been a busy gal collecting ideas and experiences to translate into more stories and poems to share with you. That will be continuing until next week because I’m already signed up for a spectacular series of fortunate events next week as well.

May your holy days, however you celebrate or don’t, be filled with the love and peace I feel sharing with you these activities. May strength to do what you can to make a difference in your community be given when you feel you may not have it. May your needs be ever met with enough. May you know that you are loved unconditionally. Peace, love, and light, Mare Martell.

Pirates in your cabinets

Slut Walk 2011 Costume

Slut Walk 2011 Costume

I admit that I am an explorer of other people’s homes.

A pirate seeking buried treasure that’s right beneath their nose.

I like to admire the stained glass lamp that has a shade with fringe.

I like to see the beauty beneath the cobwebs and the dim.

I like to use the bathroom and see the colors of your towels

I won’t rhyme this line unless I can remove all the vowels

Wn’t rhym ths ln nlss cn rmv ll th vwls

May I peek into your medicine cabinet to see your secret life?

May I, with little poking ‘round, see what gives you strife?

Are you careful with your products all neatly lined up in a row?

Are you careless with your inventory like a freaking circus show?

Do you keep random things to surprise people like me?

Or do you hide that secret life in your secret menagerie?

Do you appreciate your happies when you look shiny to reflection?

Or do you begrudgingly criticize your imagined dereliction?

I reluctantly admit, that I’m an explorer of other people’s homes.

A pirate seeking buried treasure that’s right beneath their nose.

Beautiful Uptown

It wasn’t the blur of her leopard print skirt

Or the lower East side blaring taxi yellow sweater,

I was crucified by the intensity of her regal features

As they nailed me with their direct stare

Through chocolate colored eyes that blinked

Like hammers

Their inquisitive, yet dismissive, questions


I looked away, ashamed to have imposed on her space.

The Can’t Cant

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
I cant. I cant. I cant.
I am afraid to say breathe. I’m afraid to reach out. I’m afraid for my friends. I’m afraid for my people. I’m afraid for my tribe. I’m afraid of the police.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
I cant. I cant. I cant.
I’m pulling on my leggings. I’m pulling on my hoodie. I’m pulling on my black clothing. I’m draping on my colorful cape. I’m standing up with you.
I can. I can. I can.
I am. I am. I am.
Black lives matter.

Hands up! Don’t shoot!

Black lives matter!

I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!

Black lives matter!

My brothers! My sisters!

The reign of blood

Stop the Hate

Stop the Hate

I ride with my brothers and sisters of all races and creeds;

To rear up their own steeds in unified protest;

To ride the momentum of waves of grief

Heeding the cries of mothers for their stricken children

Comforting tears of fathers for their lost legacy

We beg our inheritance returned from the barrels

Of the guns, drugs, and forced disintegration of segregation

Of caged familial relationships in the name of

Law enforcement in a police state.

Oh, Lady Justice! Raise your blindfold!

We beckon you to turn your marble eyes

Towards those who insult your intention!

We call out in solidarity for your scales

To balance the inequality that takes our skin

And uses it against our fellow Americans;

Our future! Our could-have-beens:

Strong leaders, bold teachers, smart cookies, fast learners,

Good parents, good people, good workers, good earners

Had they not been vilified by unjust practices

My blood, as theirs, is caught in the web of deception

Colored every nuance of brown, every color of tarnished brass.

You’ve stolen my generation’s heirlooms

Away from the breathing world

Crammed them into the darkest days of greatest sin,

The murder of my brethren; their only “crime” is having more melanin.