A Right to have Rights…#241

Prejudices are alive and thriving within the borders of the United States of America. The blood of the first true American runs red upon the land that we hold scared, the American Indian.  I continue having a problem with the views of “immigration” in this country by the “descendants” of immigrates. These people are now citizens of this country by either birth or becoming a citizen after coming to the United States. The rhetoric has not changed throughout the years. It is like being ugly and poor, if you are not beautiful, rich and powerful your chances of getting into the “upper 1% club” is zero.

My father was born in 1903, he, his mother, grandmother  and their people the Southeastern Chickasaw’s were not recognized as American citizens until about 1940, by then he was married and had two children.  He was born in America, lived, worked and died in America, but he was almost 37 years-old.

In 1924, The Act governing Native Americans did not include those born before the effective date of the 1924 Act and it was not until the Nationality Act of 1940 that all born on U.S. soil were citizens; my father was thirty-seven years old before he was to be recognized as a “REAL AMERICAN CITIZEN”. Many Native Americans, who were granted citizenship rights under the 1924 Act, may not have had full citizenship and suffrage rights until 1948. My father’s right to be a citizen of the United States of American was granted to him by “Immigrates or the Descendants of immigrates”

I have to wonder what my father and those who came before him, those who were drove from their lands, walked the Trail of Tears, those who help build this country would have to say about how we look upon the way those in power, the people we voted into office are reacting to today’s immigration decisions, have they forgotten that we are all descendants of immigrates, your ancestors who came to this country and were welcomed with open arms.  They did not have to go over a wall or under one, their children were not taken away from them, some lost forever.

I believe we need to stop and think about how we look in the eyes of other countries, to people who may want to make America their home, are we moving forward or backward?  If Donald Trump is allow to sit upon his throne in the White House, how many more immigrates will fall to the wayside?  Immigrates built this country, Trump has twisted every law, the Constitution, to his favor and childlike behavior.  As Americans from all races, faiths and color, we need to take back our country, bring it back to the time when we stood at our borders with open arms for those in need, or those being persecuted by their own country.

This is only my opinion and mine alone, of one who watch their father being discriminated against when I was a child. A father who was not allowed, to walk down the same street next to a powerful white man. A father who worked hard to make a living with little education. A father who would take food off our table to give to someone passing through who was hungry and did not have a job. A father who would fight for all people, be understanding of differences, and fight against discrimination. My father, a True American!  Donald Trump is not, he is blight on this land!

Getting off my soap box…elizabethannjohnsonmuphree

Desolation…#240

A silent shore, seductive Moon,

a sinister Sea, clouds in the wind,

a shadow lies upon the white sand

 alone.  Stilled on the sparkling

crystals, almost villainous, primeval

and water worn with broken sides.

Once imperturbable, aloft upon white

 shafts of waves, beautiful and bold,

 now ancient and vacant. The old

 sailing ship finds its burial ground

upon a deserted island in the mist

of morning.

©2013.Reflectionsofopoetry.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Author’s Book at: Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com

  

Flying with Broken Wings…#239

Altered Senses

Existence, scene after scene, characteristic of life environment, genetics and promises that reveal nothing, the past descends like rain from the sky, washing away all dreams.  Phantoms of youth chanting within the soul, paths blocked; evil has spread across the landscape of a lifetime.  Loneliness limits love and happiness; boundaries set slow down the process of moving into the future…nevertheless, the future may be shrouded with abundant solitude from where there is no escape.  Rethink the future!

©2020.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Flying with Broken WingsA Memoir

Author Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree books at: Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com

Flying with Broken Wings is about the life of Charlotte Jean Murphree. Charlotte was not a famous person, in fact, not too many people knew her, but those that did knew there were many facets to her life. The book tells of fifty-two-years of daily testing of her will to carry on and the misfortune she faced. As a baby and young girl she was made fun of and bullied by schoolchildren, her progress was slow but she never gave up the fight to overcome her disabilities. As an adult, she fought physical disability of Cerebral Palsy, living with Bipolar, Depression and Schizophrenia disorders. She lived not only with these disabilities, she endured the “Voices” that lived within her for over thirty years. This book is about the beginning, the middle and the end of her life.

Books by Author at Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com:

  1. Fragments of Time
  2. A Passage into Madness
  3. Asterial Thoughts
  4. A Sachet of Poetry
  5. Rutted Roads
  6. Rhythm Rhyme and Thoughts
  7. Reflections of Poetry
  8. Beyond the Voices
  9. Honeysuckle Memories
  10. Echoing Images from the Soul
  11. A Journey into the Soul

©2020.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Carrying That Load

Chuck is an educator, Young Adult Novelist, and passionate about helping people with depression and anxiety by sharing his own insights and experiences. All families with children should place those teaching their children in the “Hero” category. Teaching is not a “JOB” it is a calling.

Thoughts and Writings on Mental Health and Mindfulness

Yesterday, I walked a student to the bench outside my school. Her backpack over her shoulders, her hat low on her forehead, mask on her face. When we exited the school doors, her shuffled walk brought us to a bench. We sat in the cool October breeze, sun on our faces, talking about dogs, and attempting to help her process why she will not be returning to school until it’s safe once again.

Her grandma came and as she got up to walk toward the car, turned to me and said, “I’ll come to school next week?”

I had to tell her the truth, as I always do with my kids, “No, you will come back when you are safe and won’t get sick.”

She had a look on her face that told me she understood, and then she said, “You come see me.”

“Of course,” was my reply. “We…

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Acceptance…#238

Image result for depression

Acceptance…

The future and its viewless things,

That undiscovered mystery.  Will

We feel death’s lifeless wings.

No one wants these ending things,

If so, it would be a lie.  I hide behind

Curtained windows to keep the

World from seeing my dying eyes.

My face bathed in the dew of morn,

Before me the snowy landscape

Spreads.  This is the world in which

I was born, the world which will be

Gone from me when I am dead.

Sick of this wasted body, the mortal

Strife, the pain of taking a breath.

Now sorrow is the course of my life,

My soul combats with death.

I pray for calmness within me, please

Let it grow, before my wilted spirit must

Go.  Life is beginning to be all too clear,

I am not afraid, for soon I will be gone

From here.

©2013.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree.honeysucklememories

Books by Author at Amazon.com and Barnes&Noble.com:

  1. Fragments of Time
  2. A Passage into Madness
  3. Asterial Thoughts
  4. A Sachet of Poetry
  5. Rutted Roads
  6. Rhythm Rhyme and Thoughts
  7. Reflections of Poetry
  8. Beyond the Voices
  9. Honeysuckle Memories
  10. Echoing Images from the Soul
  11. A Journey into the Soul