Wait For Your Muse To Speak

My muse is mostly mute,
Her eyes closed and mouth shut.
She’s particular about when to speak;
Will brook no truck with any cheek.

The passing fancy doesn’t amuse;
Not interested in the current news.
Will never even waste a glance
When her mind’s caught in a trance.

But then her moment comes around,
Her voice clear and strong as a belltower gong.
So never ignore an elusive sage,
Diviner of truth and beauty in every age.

All Poetry — Henry Barnard

My Story

Abortion Wars

In my small home town last weekend, two groups of protesters set up on opposite sides of the street in the middle of the town — the pro-life group (anti-abortion) and the free-choice group (pro-abortion).

The pro-life group had a placard that read: “70 million babies have been slaughtered in the US since 1970”.  One of the signs in the free-choice group had a drawing of a wire coat hanger and the words “Never Again!”.

Pretty had to ignore such a wholesale slaughter of fetuses — literally millions; but it’s also repugnant to think about going back to the days when women would submit to self-mutilation with a wire coat hanger because they had no other choice.

So all of that leaves me exactly nowhere on the issue of abortion.

My Story