Remembering Christina May Shanaberg.. Part two.
Remembering Christina May Shanaberg..
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Ain’t no Angels on earth. Just people trying to do their best. Christina had been on my mind lately. I tell people. When we read a ancient writer. We bring them back to life. 
Christina May Shanaberg left our world 8 June 2012. She was a friendly voice and friend on Writer Cafe. These are her poetry. We must allow her words to live so she will not be forgotten. I can’t ask for permission. But her dear mother. Told me okay. Her face and name came to be lately.
My Life Has No Street
A Poem by Christina May Shanaberg
MY LIFE HAS NO STREET
All streets are dead ends,
When you have no friends;
I just want a slice of hope
Or someone to help me cope.
I might have fallen away
From whom I was, yesterday;
Not knowing where to begin
Or, even, I can be alive again.
Can you see me, at all,
Or have I become so small;
My life has no street,
Just the alley of defeat.
Two Prints in the Snow
I turn to look at the two prints I, just, made;
Were they the first, at this spot, to be laid;
Am I seeing a perspective that none have known;
Knowing solitude, but never feeling alone.
Could this be virgin ground where I had stood,
Wondering about what is wrong with the world;
Then, I understand the meaning of each print,
‘Cause they are steps toward where I am meant.
I have learned much from people, along the way,
And respect every word that they are trying to say;
I’m sure, my friend, I am the first from these parts
To have stood on that ground with you in my heart.
Merry Christmas, Bill,
and joy and comfort,
always,
Christina
Ayarinarqe Ak’allar(aq)
Nalik Uilingiataq
(Desirable Old Tent
Woman)
My Son Lost the War…
You returned my son broken;
A young, sad war token;
What was my baby fighting to win;
Just a chance to see his mother again?!
Was it all about your oil;
Was grease your victory’s spoil;
My son watched his friends die
And all the nation wonders why.
Our country is not mad at anyone,
Unless it is you, Mr. President;
You try to spread your war like the flu,
However, we know what is your intent.
Leave our sons alone, I say;
They don’t want to take lives away;
My son is baffled in dismay,
Wondering what he fought for, anyway.
Can you give my baby back
Or, as a President, do you lack
To stand by whom carry the sore
Of your ridiculous, political war?!
© 2011 Christina May Shanaberg
Christina had a hard life. She stood tall and brave. You can track back to her words by touchingPoems byChristina May Shanaberg.
When we read the words of a missed friend and writer. We bring them back to life. I remember you Christina. One day we will meet again. Drink coffee and discuss the mystery of life.