{"id":24787,"date":"2025-11-12T15:25:00","date_gmt":"2025-11-12T14:25:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/de\/?post_type=stsp_text&p=24787"},"modified":"2025-11-15T21:45:27","modified_gmt":"2025-11-15T20:45:27","slug":"poems-bettina-rolyn","status":"publish","type":"stsp_text","link":"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/en\/text\/poems-bettina-rolyn\/","title":{"rendered":"Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Peace Poem<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Overhead the clouds pass swiftly as time manifest
days swirling by, numbered as they are
another year in Wedding-technically Mitte – I always add
yearning for wholeness, wanting to feel safe
Berlin is a refuge but not always and not everywhere
I fantasize about other places where I can truly feel peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My friend was back in the Ukraine this spring
I want to join you, I say, how much are the flights?
\u201cWir fliegen nicht – nur die bomben fliegen\u201d
Turning red in my ignorance – of course
only bombs are allowed to fly these days
Peace is a delicate ruse here in the city of angels
Where the streets are full of knives and open hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They planted new trees on my street this summer
Sometimes it seems nature protests its very being
Covered as it is in cigarette butts and trash
Yet good workers return, pale and uniformed
Bringing seedlings of hope and homes for insects and bees.
Maybe the fluttering of their wings can down faraway drones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n

Adulthood<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Feathers ruffled no longer grandiose plumage
as in years past when the future
was brighter, a meteor shower of
options around every corner
with a cloak of invisibility wrapped around
my disembodied voice speaks up for injustice,
where earlier it stayed silent
Freed from the male gaze to shout
aloud the truths and wisdom
of so many pained and laden years.
The voice surprises recipients, even me,
without beauty as backup in a culture based on materiality
What weight does it hold? The heaviness that has seen
death, and rebirth. War, and peacetime.<\/p>\n\n\n\n


<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n

So-Called Civilization<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Today I saw a small child riding her bike
a Disney heroine astride a huge horse
on her T-shirt. Is she a future killer?
If I pretend I am her mother,
could I wish such a little girl would grow up
to be a princess or a Green Beret?
Yet we carry on as if men have a monopoly on violence.
We wish it were so easy but are just as capable.
Why do we crave the taking apart of things?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wish I could go back to my eight-year-old self
riding my pink banana-seat bike,
when I saw my best friend\u2019s dog chase
the school bus, and lose the race.
Death right there before my eyes
which opened wide to the mystery.
I was less disturbed than I knew I should be
Watching the dog\u2019s light brown fur seeping red,
spreading across the asphalt, an inverse snow-angel.
It is okay to want to look closely at the ending of a life,
I would assure my girlhood self.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These windows stained with a winters\u2019 worth of rain
and city construction dust remind me:
There is work to be done here
cleaning the soul preparing another season
of so-called civilization.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hickory has dropped her leaves slowly,
once the new buds push out last year\u2019s growth.
Of course each generation feels special
repeating the patterns of the old.
The fresh spring air assures me
the future isn\u2019t entirely
predetermined.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What I really want to say is:
The Army Ranger may be a woman
but the violence remains the same.
Do we really think that the burden of peace-making
lies squarely on us women\u2019s shoulders?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014 In seventy thousand words in my computer word processor program in 2022, using the counter, I find these words show up the most – some over fifty times.<\/em>
<\/p>\n\n\n\n


<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n

Frequent Occurrence<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Fifty times is very, very much
Are these words underlined
already, too much? The pain
attributed to men, and the endless topic
of women and your sex parts,
will have to wait until
later, when a man will come knocking,
always disturbing the peace.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Peace Poem Overhead the clouds pass swiftly as time manifestdays swirling by, numbered as they areanother year in Wedding-technically Mitte – I always addyearning for wholeness, wanting to feel safeBerlin is a refuge but not always and not everywhereI fantasize about other places where I can truly feel peace. My friend was back in the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":24947,"template":"","categories":[64,11],"class_list":["post-24787","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-33","category-lyrik"],"yoast_head":"\nPoems - stadtsprachen<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/stadtsprachen.de\/de\/text\/poems-bettina-rolyn\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale:alternate\" content=\"de_DE\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Poems - stadtsprachen\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Peace Poem Overhead the clouds pass swiftly as time manifestdays swirling by, numbered as they areanother year in Wedding-technically Mitte – I always addyearning for wholeness, wanting to feel safeBerlin is a refuge but not always and not everywhereI fantasize about other places where I can truly feel peace. 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