Walk A While With Me Friend ~ We Can No Longer Remain Silent

Please enjoy my article for the March/April 2018 edition of the Loon Lake Times

Walk A While With Me Friend – We Can No Longer Remain Silent
Reflections from the 2018 Women’s Marches in Eastern Washington
Copyright ©2018, ElizaBeth Coira

  • Compassion. Common Sense. Humanity. Love. Equality and Equity. For All.
  • The Earth. The Water. Scientific Research. Human Rights, regardless of race, size, shape, identity, disability, affiliation, or sexual orientation.

  • Bodily Autonomy. Healthcare and Access. Family Planning, Birth Control, Reproductive Rights. For our Mothers, Daughters, Sisters, Cousins, Friends, Neighbors, Ourselves.
  • Legal Protections and Recognitions. In the Workplace, in the Home, in Public, in our Neighborhoods, Schools, and Community Streets. To Keep Us Safe from harassment, assault, rape, abduction, gunning down, and systematic economic discrimination.

  • Build Bridges Not Walls. What about the real-life humans, critically contributing to our communities and economies. They immigrated simply trying to survive and perhaps even make a better life. Their aspirations may not be so different from yours or mine. Are we comfortable with relying on them to pick our fruits, clean our offices, slaughter our meats; only to shout “Shut Up, and Get Out”? As we gorge ourselves on cheap hamburgers, pesticide-laced apples, and twisted up versions of the “American dream”. And their children who arrived at young and tender ages, sharing classrooms, sports fields, and school lunches with our children for most of their lives; shall we shout “Get Out Too,” as we show them the door, with a steel-toed boot and baton in hand?

  • Safety in Schools for our Children and Educators, from the tyranny of violent threat and chaos. Investment in Public Education Funding, for the infrastructure, supplies, teachers, and counselors guiding and shaping young minds—Our Future.
  • Legal Protections for all from military grade weapons built for rapid, automated modes of nothing more than mass destruction. How many stacks of slaughtered, innocent civilians will it take, as politicians and lobbyists watch from ivory towers and yachts, golf clubs and private jets? Our “all or nothing” public dialogue about guns must seem so pathetically simple, amusing, and profitable to them.

Above are just some of the issues that mobilized over 4.2 million Americans at Women’s Marches across the country, the weekend of January 20th – 21st, in what some are tallying to be the largest demonstration in US history. Here in eastern Washington friends and neighbors also gathered, united in protest: 6,000+ strong in Spokane, 100+ strong in Chewelah. Our neighbors and friends, families and colleagues showed up, spoke out, refusing to be silenced by the unfortunate attempts of cowardly online bullies, drive-by verbal attacks, and even familial and workplace intimidation. So many of us in eastern Washington are no longer content to look the other way when misogyny, racism, unchecked greed, and power grabs of various sorts threaten our lives and our American democracy.  Continue reading

Spring Melt ~ By ElizaBeth Coira

You can lead a horse to water
But you cannot make him drink
Perhaps he may have just nearly drowned
Perhaps he simply isn’t thirsty
Perhaps the trough is tainted
And his sense far
                        outweighs your judgment
Perhaps he cannot bear to face
The Thought of his own reflection

Sometimes your Down looks Up to me
Sometimes your Up might be my Down
Sometimes the eyes see different realities
We create and interpret
By thought and Heart

But why cling to the things
From far long-gone journeys
So different from paths
Stretched out before thee

The past is the past
Release the old traps
In this changing climate
They’ll no longer feed you

Let your open
                    Kind Heart
                                Lead the way

Afterall Water
Always finds its way Home

Stars will Shine

Moon will Rise

And You


May Bloom

~ My Dear Beloved Friends ~ From ElizaBeth Coira

My Dear Beloved Friends,
What you are about to hear and read comes from a place of profound hurt and sorrow…like an arrow buried in my heart long ago. Do you know how that feels? Do you have any wounds that run that deep? Then you will know why I must share this today…from the beloved depths of my wounded female soul. I share this from a vulnerable place because I can no longer bear the pain of avoiding the things that need to be said. My intent is not to hurt or offend, but rather to hold open the door, for a few new ideas to take root, blossom, flourish, grace this world.

With Love
May We All
Bloom Again

What if Jesus were a woman
Buddha could be She
Would the Prophet Muhammad consent to cover and shut up
How different would the story be

What if Pachamama didn’t mother
But was still deemed worthy
What if Mary, Mother and Magdalene
Didn’t have to prove they’re “pure”

So many appropriations
Uses and abuses
Squeezing in and packaging
Of the female, sex, and role

Now let me tell you something
Boudica was a warrior queen
But we need not all play martyr
March our lives to endless struggle

What if Odin chose not to hang
From Yggdrasil, the great Tree of Life
Funny how it’s knowledge, water source
Was filled up with a great three She

Like Allah’s three wise daughters
Three witches survive in fairytales
Retracted, rewritten by all the wise men
The holy trinity ices the cake

And when I think of rising
Like the moon and sun
I think of the old Easter hare
Goddess Eostri was once known

Ah how quickly we forget
Accept agendas cloaked in “magic”
Mystery and entertainment
Explanations for control

But hey, I don’t know it all
I don’t even know a little bit

But… spirituality, freedom, soaring awareness?
–It doesn’t seem buried beneath subjugation

I tell you, I don’t have to mother
Or adhere to “ideal” lies of “pure”
Consent to lock She and me up
Or the converse, flaunt and flirt

To prove my worth and power
And I won’t let our essence
Be erased, forgotten, without a trace

Nor will I permit the unfit
To primp, puff and distract me
With a pretty dress and penis pop
I’ve no desire to do what’s been done unto me

So stop preaching I handed you the apple
It was your snake who offered the invite, right?
Stop aiming all your venom, blame
These scripts don’t have to pave the way

Social prisons
Hell-bent on control

Crusades, jihad, endless genocide
Was it only Pagans
Obsessed with human sacrifice
Cleansing, creating an apocalypse

And all in the name of WHO exactly
What is it WE’ve been doing exactly
Worshipping, perpetuating
Myth and script, over again

Violence, aggression
Fear and hate
Cleverly disguised

In a “spiritual” compass
Designed to organize
And justify so much
That has nothing to do with LOVE

Unity, our interconnection
All that’s been tainted, incorporated
Subdue the female, slave, and savage
Is it really ok to pillage and ravage?

Is it really US versus THEM?
Must it be ALL or NOTHING?
Are boys and girls really enemies?
How easily our identities are mobilized

We must stay wise, with open hearts
Consider source, and all the filters
What flows, feels right
And what feels forced

Who is indeed
Authoring the story
We are all products
Of conqueror and conquered

I ask again
How would the world be
If Jesus were
A woman

And you may ask
Just who the hell
Do you think
You are–it’s Friday–Freyja’s Day

I’ll just say
I am me
The kid you knew once
Upon a time

That is All
I am me
And I choose
~ LOVE ~