Occupation : Administrative Assistant, Wisconsin Public Radio

Date of birth: July 26, 1940

Marital status: Divorced

Education: Communications Major, University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire

Interests: Writing, Public Speaking, Reading, Grandchildren, Counted Cross Stitch.

Publish writing : None, although I contribute regularly to several web lists.

Personal statement : Although I wrote poetry when I was younger, I stopped because I wasn’t "good enough."

(I had mistaken the purpose of poetry.) I started again about a year ago as part of lifestyle changes I was making

after having a mild stroke (am now in early 60’s). In the years between, I focused communication efforts on public

speaking. I have been active in Toastmaster International since the late 1970s and was one of the nine finalists at

their 1984 "World Championship of Speaking" at Orlando, Florida. For many years after that, I had a business doing

educational seminars and motivational speaking. My frustration at the physical limitations placed on this activity

by my stroke is what led me back to poetry – I found a new and rewarding way to communicate with the world

Living’s Legacy

Do you have a vigilant little voice

Way there in the back of your soul?

One that whispers late at night?

That softly cautions even in light?

Constantly sharing prudent warnings -

"Be careful not to lose control."

"Life never has a lunch that’s free."

"You can’t trust anyone over three."

Oh, you know that relentless whisper?

You say we’re spiritual twins …

That you’ll make it better if we talk.

That you have also walked the walk.

Do you really think I’m so foolish

That I don’t know this is how it begins?

The careful con, the determined erosion

Till my deepest self suffers cruel corrosion.

Trust is the ultimate game for fools -

Who mostly deserve the losses they get.

When I was young and shamefully blind,

I, too, felt kindness was easy to find,

That people looked out for each other,

That weakness was something safe to admit.

But I’ve learned … how I’ve learned …

That trust is another word for burned.

Do you have a vigilant little voice

Way there in the back of your soul?

One that whispers late at night?

That softly cautions even in light?

Constantly warning to remember the past,

Reminding that vigilance is the goal.

Do you ever not listen to your voice?

And ache unbearably from that choice?

When I let wishes out to play,

I forget that people equal pain.

I trust in friendship’s healing powers.

I blot out thorns, remember flowers.

It never lasts for long – that fancy.

Reality always comes home again …

Leaving me alone to shore up the wall

That will guard my tears for once and all.

©Copyright Anita Tafolla