A new poem called "home"
home
she’ll grab you by the heartstrings
and never let you go
she’s a haven for your heartbeat
and a heaven made of snow
she’s a harbor where the midnight sun
never lets you down
and the blazing bright aurora
nails you to the ground
where the beaver slaps his happy tail
by the shore of an alpine lake
and the river runs right through ya
where the salmon clear the gate
where the moose calls out in the wilderness
to lure himself a mate
and the air is clear and the water here
is more than worth the wait
where you can walk across forever
and never see another soul
where the trails the moss and the tundra
ever beckon you to go
where the raven’s laugh and the grizzly’s roar
in the land of the quanlin dun
will always leave you craving more
when a northern day is done
some call her a barren wasteland
some say she’s a nowhere land
where it’s 50 below and the ice and the snow
are unfit for the fittest man
some say she’s an empty horizon
she’s really no big deal
yet the gleam and the glow of the natural world
clearly say that the magic is real
some call her a wonder
some call her a drain
some wander and wonder
and wander again
but she’ll get in your blood
like the verse of a poem
some call her the yukon
but i call her home
©PJ Yukon April 22 2024
*This poem was made in Canada.
And so was I.
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Your Name is Important!
I was once advised that as a published author it would be tantamount to artistic suicide to change my last name after a divorce, so for decades I carried the last name of an abusive ex – a violent man who left scars on me and seared my soul.
After my divorce I never freely volunteered my last name and whenever I had to a little part of me died inside. I felt angry and ashamed.
In 1984 I was able to legally change my first name to PJ, but that was only after it was thrown out of court three times on the grounds that there was no precedent to legally change a name to two letters.
By the fourth time I think the judge was just tired of seeing it come across his desk and finally stamped it. That was 40 years ago. My friends had given me the nickname PJ. It was friendly and I liked it. So I kept it.
When I was born my maternal parent traveled to Vancouver, gave birth, and hit the road leaving me with a string of names I couldn’t relate to. Then the Canadian Government scooped me and I ended up in a string of foster homes where my name kept changing and my first name was bastardized.
I didn’t really belong to anyone or anywhere. And I didn’t really have a name. I never met my father so I didn’t know his last name or who he was. All I know is that genetically his DNA says he had some FN blood.
Since I’ve never had a claim to a name I chose one for myself. I advise anyone, especially women who get stuck with the last name of an abuser, to take steps to claim a name they feel good about.
I am so proud of my new name PJ Yukon! It’s so me! It’s also great knowing I will never again be forced to answer the question “Last Name?” with anything other than Yukon!
I love my new name! You should love yours too.
Sincerely, ©PJ Yukon April 18 2024
https://yukonpoetlaureate.com
#domesticabuse #domesticviolence #friends #yukon #poet
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April 15 2024: My legal name is PJ. My last name used to be Johnson. I was advised that a published author's change of name could mean artistic suicide. Still I chose to lose the name. Who wants to be referred to by the last name of an abusive ex? Not me! Sign me: PJ Yukon!
PS The legalities are in the works.
February 2024: Every now and then I come across a few of these - honours given to me by various organizations. As an artist it is always appreciated to be recognized for the work you do however the thruth is I don't do it for the recognition. I do it to share my heart. Most poets do.
A little gem I penned 35 years ago
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how can i
how can i sit and write poetry
when children are dying in the street
and the sky is a sea of red madness
that is burning my feet
how can i look you in the eye
and see only yesterdays
and the steel trap of a mind that i know
will never change
how can i pardon myself
for knowing the bitter truth of you
and never choosing
to run
©PJ Yukon January 9 2024
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God Is
God is my comfort. The very air I breathe. The land I walk. The blueness of an October sky.
God is the happy song of birds returning to the north. The welcome bloom of a summer rose. The sunshine reflected in my puppy's eyes.
God is the sudden slap of a beaver tail. The soulful echo of the loon across the lake. The warm caress of the breeze that blows away my cares.
God is the soul-stirring scream of a high-flown eagle. The joyful buzz of a honey bee. The arc of a brilliant rainbow that shines and brings new hope.
There is no escaping it. No running away. We are surrounded. God simply is
everywhere.
©PJ Yukon February 12 2024
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