Author: poeaxtry_

  • Quentin Tarantino’s Use of the N-Word Isn’t “Edgy”—It’s Exploitation

    Quentin Tarantino’s Use of the N-Word Isn’t “Edgy”—It’s Exploitation

    Let’s not pretend this is new. Quentin Tarantino has a long and well-documented history of using the n-word in his films. But what makes his case especially disturbing isn’t just the frequency of its appearance. It’s that he casts himself to say it.

    This isn’t incidental. It’s not some “gritty realism” or “necessary evil” in the name of authenticity. Tarantino doesn’t just write scripts where racial slurs. He inserts himself as the mouthpiece for them. The industry then claps for it.

    Over and over, in movie after movie, he writes the word, directs the scene, walks on camera, and delivers it. Full control, full authorship, full power. This isn’t a creative accident. It’s a pattern and a choice.

    Take Pulp Fiction. He plays Jimmie, a white man. Jimmie casually spits the n-word while discussing a dead Black man in his garage. There is no reason this scene needed to include that word. There is certainly no reason Tarantino had to be the one saying it. He’s the writer. He’s made any choice. Not only that, but he chose that.

    People have called this out many times. They include critics, scholars, Black viewers, and even fellow filmmakers. Yet, the industry still refuses to hold him accountable. Instead, they’ve labeled him “a provocateur,” a “visionary,” a “master of raw dialogue.”

    What does it say that a white man can repeatedly use anti-Black slurs in entertainment? He profits from it all while Black creators constantly have to justify even showing their pain.

    This Isn’t About One Word. It’s About Control.

    Tarantino’s use of racial slurs isn’t about storytelling. It’s about power.

    White filmmakers like him write themselves into roles that allow them to say the n-word on screen. They’re not pushing boundaries. They’re reinforcing a long history of white ownership over Black narratives. It’s voyeuristic at best, violent at worst.

    This dynamic isn’t limited to Tarantino, but his case is one of the most egregious. He profits from Black trauma. He peppers his scripts with the aesthetics of Blackness by using slang, music, and cultural references. He even includes entire character archetypes. Then he centers himself and other white people in the telling.

    Even Django Unchained, which they say features a Black hero, focuses largely on white characters during its runtime. These include white saviors, white villains, and white storytellers. And again, the n-word appears more than 100 times. It’s everywhere. Gratuitous. Heavy-handed. But in interviews, Tarantino defends it as “truthful” or “necessary.”

    Truthful to what? Necessary for whom?

    You don’t get to use realism as a shield when you’re writing the fiction yourself.

    When bipoc tell their Stories, they are silenced. When He Tells Them, He’s celebrated.

    Here’s the part that stings the most. A project by a Black or Indigenous filmmaker with the same level of graphic violence would contain racial slurs. It would include cultural trauma similar to Tarantino’s films. Such a project would be torn apart in the press. Their project would include racial slurs. It would also involve cultural trauma, similar to Tarantino’s films.

    They’d be accused of exploiting pain. Of playing the victim. Of being too angry. They are told their stories are “too much” or “not universal enough.” The same people who praise Tarantino’s “grit” would call others “divisive.” Or worse yet, “irrelevant.”

    When minorities create art rooted in our reality, they call it trauma porn. When he does it, they hand him awards.

    Black creators have to walk a razor-thin line. They balance honest expression with marketability. They tone police themselves at every turn just to be taken seriously. Meanwhile, Tarantino gets to waltz into the conversation, drop the n-word a dozen times, and get called authentic.

    That is the very definition of privilege.

    It’s Time We Say It Plain.

    This isn’t about whether Quentin Tarantino is “racist” in the most obvious sense. This is about who gets to tell stories and what they get praised or punished for.

    Many people of color hesitate to share their own experiences with racism. It’s because minorities know how these experiences will be received. We’ve all as minorities have seen it too many times. We are labeled attention-seeking. Dramatic. Angry. Bitter. Especially those of us whose difference is their race.

    Meanwhile, a white man says the n-word on screen, over and over again. Sometimes, he does this while laughing about a corpse. Other times, it happens while playing slave masters, and the media calls it brave.

    They say it’s bold. They say it’s raw. Worse by far is them say it’s “grit.”

    Let’s say what it really is: exploitation.

    And let’s stop pretending it’s anything less.

    So if you’re a fan of his work, and you’re willing to say why, please enlighten me. If you’re one of the same standpoint as me, please add anything to your comment. Mention anything you see that he does that accompanies his racism in writing and directing.

  • Breaking Rocks in the heat, a fossil dig, that nearly-did me in.

    Breaking Rocks in the heat, a fossil dig, that nearly-did me in.

    Sylvania Ohio water tower, blue skys, and white clouds
    The water tower from the parking lot

    I went up to Monroe, Michigan the other day. Let’s be real, their prices are cheaper. It’s legal in both Ohio and Michigan. So, who gives a fuck? I’d been meaning to combine one of these trips with a fossil stop. A few weeks ago, it hit me. Fossil Park in Sylvania, Ohio is only like a half-hour away. It is right on my way home. Easy win, right?

    And yeah, even with the gas prices up in the USA (thanks Trump for lowering them NOT). In Michigan, it’s still cheaper, and way more worth it. Even considering, the closest Ohio one is right around the corner from my house. The THC is weak, the taxes are wild, and they’re trying to take half your soul in regulation fees. Fuck Ohio.

    I was hoping to finally catch Lake Huron on this run. I thought the ride back wasn’t going to be that long. Then I actually looked at the apple map. Curious to see the distance just from Port Huron to my place. It slapped me in the face with a full five-hour drive. So Huron’s getting bumped to a future trip.

    Instead, I shifted gears and headed to Fossil Park. I’m really glad I did. All things considered, I really need to make sure I have an inhaler with me at all times!

    Fossil Park isn’t a “hike” in the usual sense. It isn’t a forest, no huge trail, no hills, no beautiful waterfalls, or views. It’s a designated fossil dig zone. This area is set up with trucked-in Silica Shale, which is a layered rock that splits into sheets. It is not the crumbly mud ball I had in my head. I spent the first hour breaking up clay blobs. A dumb ass, sweating and squinting at my phone trying to figure out what shale actually looks like. To save you the same time I wasted, here’s a little Spoiler: it’s the flat, flaky, grayish rock. You’re welcome.

    There’s a fenced-in quarry where the actual digging happens. You’re only allowed to collect fossils within that enclosed space, not just anywhere in the park. Let’s follow the rules. We should use the provided trash cans. Do not bring tools (rock hammers and such). Follow whatever else they ask. So we can work to keep the cool free things cool and free!

    Metal sign with Fossil Identification, QR codes, & information
    Photo showing most of the poster type signs near sitting areas in the quarry

    They’ve got:

    Picnic tables and with covers used as shaded spots around the quarry. The shaded covers have metal posters showing all the fossils you can find. This is super helpful if you can see your phone. It’s not too bright to see or so hot you can’t touch it. If you can see your phone, there’s a QR code on the poster also. You can it scan and learn more. There’s a big-ass water tower, pretty much in the parking lot. Which is a cool thing to use to know you’re at the right spot.

    If you’re wondering about trails, yes! And, it’s definitely not just a fenced-off fossil pit, either. The actual dig site is enclosed. The whole area has more going on. There is a network of smaller trails that connect to Sylvan Prairie Park and Pacesetter Park. I could never climb these. There is a climbing area with three multi-sided towers near the parking area. Next to it is a large covered picnic shelter just outside the dig zone. It’s certainly a spot where you can make an entire afternoon out of it! Even if you don’t spend all six hours baking in shale like I did.

    Axton stand's on top of climbable rock wall while his friend is stuck on the side

    So I totally ended up back here FOUR times since this trip! I made it up the wall ALSO!!!
    Climbing

    Here’s what you can expect to find in that Devonian Silica Shale:

    Trilobites (rare but incredible)

    Brachiopods (look like seashells but aren’t)

    Bryozoans (coral-like, colonial creatures)

    Crinoids (those segmented stem fossils)

    Gastropods (ancient snail-like shells)

    Horn corals (singular coral fossils, horn-shaped)

    I managed to grab a decent variety. Though, I forgot my bucket or even a bag. Alas, I must go back for more!

    The near-death experience I mentioned:

    I got there before noon, thinking I’d stay for “a little while.” Next thing I know, it’s after 6 p.m., my entire outfit was soaked through with sweat. I then notice I’m on the verge of either a heat stroke or an asthma attack. It was 104 degrees out. I didn’t even realize how bad it was. I tried to walk two minutes back to my car. Honestly, I had to keep stopping to breathe. Or sit. Took me forever. Not fun. Hydrate, people. This is how you die. Alone. Fossils in your pocket.

    Even though it wasn’t a traditional hike, for me. Fossil Park earns its place in this journal. I’m sure I’ll have to go back to see the trails. I also want to see more fossils! I said that like Mr. Crocker from The Fairly Odd Parents when he’s yelling “fairy godparents.” It’s outdoors. It’s a hands-on experience. It’s a rare chance to pull 375 million-year-old fossils out of the ground with your bare hands. If you’re anywhere near Toledo, Monroe, or heading East from Michigan into Ohio, it’s an easy and rewarding detour.

    Huge fossil death plate marking the quarry entrance
    Very large fossil near the entrance
  • What Do Angel Numbers Really Mean? Ancient Roots Revealed.

    What Do Angel Numbers Really Mean? Ancient Roots Revealed.

    Have You Seen Repeating Numbers? Unlock the Secrets of Angel Numbers.

    You know the feeling? I know I do. I’ll glance at the clock and see 11:11. Then I notice my receipt total is $22.22, or I catch license plates with repeating digits like 333 or 444. These number sequences catch our eyes for a reason. Many call them “angel numbers,” thought to be spiritual messages guiding us in life’s twists and turns. Though the term angel numbers is newer, the thought behind them has almost always been around.

    Where did this idea come from? What do these numbers really mean? We’re going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship. We will travel through time and explore spirituality. Our goal is to uncover the ancient roots and modern interpretations behind these mysterious sequences. I’ll also tell you how you can use them as tools to deepen your intuition.

    A long long time ago way before any one heard of “angel numbers”. Numbers were seen as sacred and powerful. One of the earliest people to come up with this idea was Pythagoras. He was the Greek philosopher and mathematician who lived over 2,500 years ago. To Pythagoras and his followers, numbers were not just symbols or tools. But they were the very essence of reality itself.


    Each single digit from one through nine held its own unique vibration and meaning:

    1 stood for unity, beginnings, and leadership. This is the spark of creation. 2 symbolized balance, partnership, and cooperation. 3 was about creativity, expression, and joy. 4 represented stability, order, and hard work. 5 brought freedom, change, and adventure. 6 carried harmony, responsibility, and nurturing energy. 7 invoked spirituality, wisdom, and introspection. 8 embodied power, abundance, and success. 9 stood for completion, compassion, and universal love.

    This wasn’t just a Greek idea, though. Ancient cultures like the Babylonians and Egyptians believed numbers had mystical qualities. They connected numbers to the divine order of the universe. Across time and place, numbers served as bridges between the physical world and the unseen spiritual realm.

    Fast-forward all the way to the current day, aka late 20th century. The concept of seeing repeating numbers as messages took on a new name and form, angel numbers. We can thank Doreen Virtue, a spiritual teacher and author, for this term. She coined the term “angel numbers” to describe sequences like 111, 222, or 555. She interpreted them as specific messages from angels or spiritual guides. These messages are meant to help us navigate life.


    Virtue’s angel numbers often carry themes like the ancient meanings but framed as divine guidance:

    111 signals new beginnings and alignment with your highest thoughts. 222 encourages faith, balance, and trust in divine timing. 333 reminds you that ascended masters are near, offering support. 444 signifies protection and stability angels are watching over you. 555 signals big changes and transformation ahead. 666 asks you to realign your focus toward spiritual growth over material concerns. 777 marks spiritual awakening and divine guidance. 888 promises abundance and prosperity. 999 heralds completion and preparation for new cycles.

    Let’s get weird. Oh, no, that’s Ronnie from Jersey shore.. Oops. Anyway, this is interesting. When we look at Pythagoras’s ancient meanings for the single digits, we see many instances of beautiful overlap. We also notice Doreen Virtue’s modern angel number interpretations. These similarities reveal how the messages have transcended centuries and cultures.

    Look at the number 1. Pythagoras, thought it stood for unity, beginnings, and leadership. Virtue’s angel number 111 shares these ideas, emphasizing new beginnings and manifesting your thoughts into reality. They both talk about the power of starting fresh and stepping into your own creative potential.

    The number 2 in Pythagorean’s is about balance, partnership, and harmony, Also isn’t this idea echoed in 222? 222 encourages faith, trust, and divine timing in your relationships and life decisions.

    Number 3 signals creativity and joyful expression. In contrast, 333 highlights support from ascended masters. This is a spiritual form of encouragement to keep expressing your true self.

    For 4, stability and hard work are core, matching with 444, a sign of protection and solid foundations. They both reassure you that you are supported and on the right path.

    5 stands for freedom and change. These directly aligning with 555, a clear signal of major life transformations and adventure.

    Number 6 shifts: Pythagoras viewed it as harmony and nurturing responsibility. While 666 asks for reflection and realignment toward spiritual values over material distractions. It’s a call to balance the earthly with the spiritual.

    The spiritual depth of 7 remains consistent, with Pythagoras emphasizing wisdom and introspection. 777 marks spiritual awakening and divine luck.

    Both 8 and 888 embody power and abundance, whether material success or spiritual prosperity.

    Finally, 9 and 999 full cycles. They are bringing compassion and universal love while preparing for fresh starts.


    In the end, these number sequences have maintained their symbolic power through time. All while adapting to modern spirituality, never loosing their ancient wisdom.

    Use these meanings as a compass. Still, know your intuition is the ultimate guide. Notice how you feel when you see these numbers. What’s happening in your life at that moment? That personal context brings the message fully to life.


    Want a handy guide to carry with you?
    Download my printable and digital
    “Book of Spells Cheat Sheet”.
    It is a simple reference.
    The guide includes these angel numbers and their meanings.
    It also offers tips on how to tune in to your intuition when you see them.

    It’s perfect for daily inspiration, journal prompts, or adding a little magic to your spiritual practice. Beginners & seasoned seekers both can connect deeper to the surrounding messages.


    Repeating numbers are more than coincidence in some beliefs. They are also ancient symbols speaking through the language of the universe. Just inviting you to listen. Both Greek numerology and angelic messages, have the same goals: to guide, reassure, and awaken you.

    So next time you catch 111 on the clock or 444 on a sign, pause. Take a breath. Trust what your heart and mind are telling you. These numbers are tools for you to connect with your intuition and the greater mysteries that surround you.

    Have you noticed any repeating numbers lately? What do they mean to you? Share your experiences in the comments. Let’s explore this magical language together.🖤


    Angel numbers grimore insert purple background gold and silver stars with white and black font
    Angel number cheat sheet

    Payhip Free Download OR GumRoad Free Download
    Links


    Want to explore more?

    Visit Poeaxtry and the Prism’s Archive Cheat Sheet. Discover all post categories, with a blurb and link to full post archive for each. Then find every post in that category in chronological order.


  • The Boy Who Lived Was Not Hairy — She Was Pre-T

    The Boy Who Lived Was Not Hairy — She Was Pre-T

    Fandom used to be the only place I could almost exist.

    I had to headcanon myself into the background, wedge myself between the margins, beg fanfic for scraps of survival. There was no trans joy in here though because J.K. Rowling didn’t forget us.

    She excluded us.

    “The Sorting Hat took one look and said, ‘She’s a TERF, but she’s OUR problem now.’”

    This wasn’t a stumble. This was erasure. This was policy. This was the same woman who built seven books of magical realism. Her books have no space for trans bodies or queer love. They lack Black protagonists outside of tokenism and tropes.

    So this is how I fight back:

    With glitter. With pettiness. With poetry. With jokes too trans and too alive for her to handle.

    Because the boy who lived was not hairy.

    She was pre-T.

    “She didn’t forget to write us. She made sure we weren’t there.”

    TWO TRUTHS J.K. ROWLING WISHES YOU’D FORGET

    1. She didn’t stumble into TERFdom she committed to it.

    She didn’t get tricked or “radicalized.” She’s not misinformed. Rowling writes essays defending anti-trans bigots. She follows every pipeline Twitter account imaginable. She promotes “gender critical” authors and retweets the worst of them with pride. This isn’t a misunderstanding. It’s a mission.

    2. Her magical world made sure we weren’t invited.

    No canonically queer characters until the series was over, and even then she had his gayness retrofitted. Poor Dumbledore. Yet never once did Rowling put it on one page. No trans characters. No fat characters who were treated with dignity. No explicitly Jewish or Muslim heroes. No central Black or brown characters. No disability. No real neurodivergent individuals. The most magical place on earth was somehow just… white, thin, cis, straight, able-bodied. That’s not coincidence. That’s design!

    “The boy who lived was not hairy but, she was pre-T.”

    It’s a joke, but it’s also a gut punch.

    Because if J.K. had her way, we wouldn’t exist at all.

    We grew up in the shadow of books that trained us not to see ourselves. Then we hacked the system. We wrote fanfics. We transed the characters. Then we turned Hogwarts into a trans haven. And the minute she noticed, she lost her mind.

    She has to fear us.

    Not because we’re wrong.

    But because we’re free in a way she never was.

    She writes trauma and calls it womanhood. She cages her characters in binaries. Rowling creates entire species of magical slaves and calls it world building. She lets evil rise again and again, but heaven forbid we give Hermione a girlfriend or make Harry trans.

    And she actively dead names Voldemort!

    She hates us because we found joy inside what she thought was a cage.

    And that’s what terrifies her the most, I bet

    That we exist anyway.

    That we make it funny.

    And then we make it magic.

    So yes, the boy who lived was pre-T. He is she. I know this tranny right here doesn’t owe that woman a damn thing.

    “She fears trans joy more than she feared Voldemort.”

    I don’t write these because I think JK Rowling will change.

    I write them for the kids like me who had to twist canon just to breathe. For the ones who made their first “they/them” OC on DeviantArt. For the ones who had to carve community out of thin air tags. This is for every trans kid who saw magic, but never saw themselves.

    You saw it anyway.

    You made it anyway.

    You are living it anyway.

    This hunt?

    It’s our coven now.

    🪄

    “If your villain is a snake-man, but your real enemy is a trans teen on T? You’re not writing fiction. You’re writing a manifesto.”

  • Future Travel Plans: Permit Hikes, Rockhounding, and Yearly Return to WNC

    Future Travel Plans: Permit Hikes, Rockhounding, and Yearly Return to WNC

    What are your future travel plans?

    Every year, without fail, I make a point to return to western North Carolina, usually in January (before this year). To see my sister It was a personal promise, to my mom. Now it is a form of spiritual maintenance, and something I know will never change unless my sister moves. The Blue Ridge Mountains are already calling me back, and I’ve been home less than a week. Yet I already know I will answer. Still, before WNC see’s me, I have several other trips locked in that I’m really excited about.

    Trip one:

    On August 7th, 2025, I’ll be exploring permit only hikes in and around Hocking Hills, Ohio. This will consist of us completing three out of four of the permit-only areas. I’ve been approved already, and the sign-up is free on the Ohio DNR website. My buddy and her little kiddo will be joining me. We’ll be exploring Boch Hollow specifically Laurel Falls, Little Rocky Hollow, and the Saltpetre Cave State Nature Preserve. These aren’t your typical walk-in hikes. They’re protected, limited-access preserves that need permits to guarantee the safety of the biodiverse natural areas. I’m incredibly grateful to understand and respect the importance of maintaining the natural ecosystem’s integrity. Permits in Ohio are mainly for monitoring foot traffic. They help preserve these specific biodiversity areas and preserves.

    Trip Two

    Just a few days later, on August 12th, I’ll be heading up to Cuyahoga Valley National Park (CVNP) in Cleveland. I’m meeting up with a friend to explore for the day. The Ledges Trail is already on the itinerary. We plan to fill the day with more stops inside CVNP. Then we’ll explore along Lake Erie afterward. There’s potential to do rock hounding. I’m hoping to discover some lake-worn treasures. I even find fossils during the visit. As well as definitely chasing some waterfalls and Ohio ledges.

    Future plans

    Before September, or in early September, my pal and I hope to go backwoods camping in Virginia. Maybe her kiddo will join too. The spot is close to the Devil’s Bathtub area. It will be at minimum 200 units (I can’t recall if it was meters or feet) from the water. The area is known for its beauty. It boasts a waterfall into a clear, freezing swimming hole. If you didn’t know, legend states this is the only water source cold enough to bathe the devil. Sadly, this plan isn’t locked in just yet. Though, it’s something I hope comes together fully.

    Beyond those specific date or places, I’ve been collecting a list of nearby destinations. These places are across Indiana, Kentucky, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Ohio. They all are less than or equal to 5 hours from home each way. These include hidden waterfalls, scenic overlooks, historical fossil sites, quirky statues, and other neat things. I like to travel spontaneously, so this is probably as “planned” in the future as I get. If you exclude my annual western North Carolina trip to see my sister.

    Port Huron

    I’ve also had Port Huron and Petoskey, Michigan on my mind. The idea of finding real Petoskey stones excites me. I do not want to barter for them, which is enough to almost make me head there now. I find the idea of exploring the Lake Huron shoreline to be incredibly appealing. Between the lake stones, fossils, and the open water, it feels like the perfect mix of grounding and adventure.

    Nature, movement, and discovery are always part of my year. I make space for new trails, new stones, and new memories. Whether it’s a permitted hike in Ohio or a spontaneous camping trip in Virginia, I embrace new adventures. Even if my travel plans shift along the way, my commitment to exploration never fades. I have a deep lust for wonder.

  • Coming Home from Asheville: Adventures at New River Gorge, Hawk’s Nest, and Waterfalls in the Rain

    Coming Home from Asheville: Adventures at New River Gorge, Hawk’s Nest, and Waterfalls in the Rain

    I left Asheville later than I planned. Originally I wanted to be on the road by 6 AM but, sleep had other plans for me. I didn’t hit the road until 9. Honestly, I didn’t really want to leave. I was already missing Kelsey and Luna like crazy. If it weren’t for them, the drive home wouldn’t be calling.

    Hawk Nest State Park Signage at the overlook
    The New River Gorge Bridge and the Newest WV National Park

    The trip back was full of beautiful views. They motivated me to push my ass home. These views ended up being little adventures in themselves. First on the list was New River Gorge, where the air smelled like fresh pine. I noticed I could smell the rain coming for the first time in years. The Appalachian hardwoods were thick with oak and hickory trees as far as I was able to see. Man, the views over the gorge were breathtaking! The river winding through deep cliffs. I grabbed some stickers to remember the place. Though, the real prize was the silence, and also the mossy rocks laying beneath the towering trees. I visited this place often as a kid. I expected to find it less breathtaking. It was actually more stunning than I recall.

    Axton in the rain at Lover's Leap overlook in a blue t-shirt
    Lovers leap overlook

    Hawk’s Nest was next, and man, the mushroom show there was something else. Orange mushrooms popped like little bursts of flame against the forest floor. I spotted turkey tails layered in their colorful rings, and the chicken of the woods clung to fallen logs. The trees shifted here to include more maples and sycamores, their leaves a full display of green. I wandered some overlooks, feeling the wind and watching clouds dance over the valleys. Lover’s leap is definitely a must-see! I wonder if there’s significance in the name? I got caught in a sudden downpour. It drenched me to the bone as soon as I made it to the leap’s overlook. I love the rain, and I find it refreshing, especially spiritually. The wet rocks and leaves glistened under the gray sky. The sound of water everywhere made it feel like the forest was alive. It was whispering sweet nothings to me.

    Cathedral Falls  Gauley Bridge WV mid summer
    Cathedral falls

    Cathedral Falls was the third stop. It’s the kind of hidden gem you hope for. The water was cascading down carved stone surrounded by ferns and moss thick enough to hide a whole world beneath. The cool mist from the falls was a perfect refresher. It was by far the most crowded place I stopped by size. There may have been fewer people in number. However, 15-20 people in that area made me more uncomfortable than usual.

    The fall known only as little roadside falls less than a mile from Cathedral Falls
    Little roadside wv falls

    The “little roadside fall” right down from Cathedral falls was the perfect punctuation mark on my journey home. The little cascade served as a reminder that nature always has a story to tell. Even if you’re the only one driving past to notice it. Which is what kept me at my last stop for so long. I was the only one there, and it felt meant for me.I’m back now, tired but full, carrying all these moments with me. The plants, the fungi, the waterfalls, the memories all make this place more than just a spot on the map. They’re the pulse of the mountains, the wild heart of Appalachia. They remind me of home, and that I am pure Wild and Wonderful to the bone.

  • Sliding Rock Felt Colder Than Lake Superior—But Was It?

    Sliding Rock Felt Colder Than Lake Superior—But Was It?

    Lake Superior

    Last year, I was standing on the edge of Lake Superior in Munising, Michigan. It was mid-June, but the breeze off the water still bit through my clothes. Kelsey and I bought a camping fan, and we definitely did not need it. Shorts were also unused for the most part. I didn’t go all the way in, honestly, not even knee-deep. I rock hounded and just let the lake touch my calves. That was enough. It was cold, but not unbearable. Bracing. That’s the word I’d use. It also wasn’t hot out at all so, why would I get in water that cold. I remember thinking, “Okay. That’s not as bad as I expected.” I absolutely do not wish to swim in it, though! I stood there for a few minutes, toes curling into sand and broken rock. Continued breathing it in, feeling the lake tug gently at my ankles and feet. Then I walked back out of the lake. Easy like Sunday morning.

    Sliding Rock

    Sliding Rock Parking lot sign, brown, sign, green trees. Sign tells you not to move rocks!

    This year was different. I found myself in Western North Carolina, in the center of a July heat wave. My sister introduced me to Sliding Rock. Look below to see a picture. It’s the natural rock waterside. It comes with tourists in a line so long we were across the creek. The sounds of nervous laughter in front of us mixed with splashing, and shrieking. It was hot, my car thermostat was reading triple digits. The sun made the stone slick and warm. I waited my turn and tried to psych myself up. Then I sat down on the rock, pushed off, and honestly barely got momentum. I, no sooner hit the pool at the bottom, though, and I froze. That cold that doesn’t just shock your skin, it locks you up. I couldn’t breathe. My chest physically felt stuck. It didn’t matter that it was July or that I’d just been sweating and cursing the sun. That water hit harder than anything else I have felt.

    Sliding Rock Natural Waterfall in Western North Carolina

    I was so confused. Sliding Rock? That’s just a little creek in the woods. Lake Superior is, well, Superior. It’s gosh darn massive and glacial and famous for being cold. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much worse Sliding Rock felt. I didn’t even go under the water in Munising. Not really. Just my lower legs. But at Sliding Rock, I was fully submerged, head and all. I am sure that is what makes a difference. Still, I got curious. I looked it up.

    Lake Superior in mid-June? Anywhere from 40 to 50 degrees Fahrenheit (ca. 10 °C), sometimes colder. Sliding Rock in mid-July? Consistently around 50 to 55 degrees. So technically, the lake is colder. But it didn’t feel that way.

    I keep coming back to that. I feel like sometimes we trick ourselves. The numbers don’t matter as much as the moment. I expected Lake Superior to be cold, so I braced myself. I only dipped partway in. With Sliding Rock, the heat had lulled me into false confidence. I didn’t just dip, I slid. That cold slapped me across the face. It stole my oxygen. It stuck to my skin even after I climbed out, dripping. Though stunned, I was still smiling like an idiot. As I listened to my adult sister beg to go again and again like we were children, and again.

    It reminded me how nature doesn’t always work in neat measurements. Sometimes it’s about the moment. It’s about contrast. It’s also about what you think you’re ready for. Others, it is what humbles you anyway.

    Anyway, if you’ve done both, I’m curious to know what felt colder to you?

    Also, so you know, we arrived at sliding rock a little over an hour before close. Jade, my sister, putting on some front like she was going to hate it. Jenna, our other sister, and Jade were here years prior. Not gonna lie, the experience was almost nostalgic. The 9-year age difference really prevented me from truly being a kid with my sisters. If it wasn’t for that feeling, I wouldn’t have slid again. There’s something about your grown sibling demanding to go down the slide again. It’s like a child at a park where you can’t deny another slid. Sliding rock greedily stole my breath each dip.

    Pictured Rocks National Lake Shore, Bridal Veil Falls in the Distance, Clear Blue Sky, Lake Superior appearing unmoving.
    Years ago my mom and I saw a true crime episode Pictured Rocks National Lake shore was the crime scene. Neither of us had heard of PRNLS before. Both of us became hooked on the beauty instantly. Call it obsessed over nature. Thus creating our shared dream to visit together. Though mom didn’t make it physically we scattered her cremains of the ledge, including her in the experience still.

    Links. Hike Poem Ko-Fi

  • A Birthday Without Her: Remembering My Mom, 7.19.1971–11.8.2021

    A Birthday Without Her: Remembering My Mom, 7.19.1971–11.8.2021

    Today, my mom would’ve turned 54. (As in right now when I type this I’m not sure when I will schedule it to post but)

    She was born on July 19, 1971. She passed away on November 8, 2021. That was just eight days before I turned 30. I didn’t know how to prepare for the amount of grief this has churned up. I still don’t. And now here we are, in 2025, almost four years later. I still wake up on this day with that ache in my chest. It’s not just this day; it’s many of them. It’s a lot of them, if I’m being honest.

    Some years it hits louder than others. This year, it’s the silence that hurts most. The absence. The way I can’t call her. Knowing I can’t tell her anything new. I just spent the week with my sister exploring the towns around Asheville. I know mom would have loved to hear all about our trips. Time keeps moving. Somehow she’s further and further away. Yet, she’s still here with me in all the ways that matter.

    My sisters both turned 21 just a few months after she passed away. I don’t think one of us was really ready. Honestly, is anyone ever really ready. Still, she should’ve seen them grow. She should’ve seen me figure some of this out. She should’ve still been part of the story. My mom should be here!

    I carry her with me everywhere I go. In my writing. In the way I talk to strangers. How fiercely I protect the people I love. I think she’d be proud of what I’m doing now. Proud of how I keep going even when it’s hard. Proud of the things I’m building. I know she’d be proud of the love I still have to give. She’s here with me when I hike. I feel her with me when I write. She’s present when I don’t know what to do. I know she’s with me, here in all other moments. But it isn’t the same, and I’d trade my dad any day. I’ll never stop saying that.

    Today, I’m just letting myself feel it. The love. The grief. The weight. The memory. It’s really stupid I didn’t think about this date before I scheduled my vacation. I would do anything to still be off work!

    Check out my links. Best of Poeaxtry 2025. Buy me a coffee?

    Happy birthday, Momma. I love you. I miss you. I always will nothing will change that. I still remember your smile and the way you smelled. The laugh I used to make fun of, and all the quirky expressions you used to make (now Jade makes).

    Please come see us soon! I hope your doggo baby made it to you. I know you saw we put jewels collar on the bridge in lake Lure.

    My last bday photo with mom
    My birthday 11:16:2020
  • “Anti-Depressants” Grief, My Mother, and the Limits of Healing

    “Anti-Depressants” Grief, My Mother, and the Limits of Healing


    Grief has a way of showing up right when the world is shouting about holiday cheer. Every neon display tells you to be merry. Every commercial insists that joy is mandatory. It hits harder when your heart is carrying loss. This poem confronts that tension directly. It’s the kind where love and pain sit in the same room. You find yourself trying to breathe through both. Readers who have carried a loss through the holiday season will recognize that raw pull. Those who have tried to balance healing with real life will also feel it. In a world that doesn’t slow down, this piece reminds you that grief doesn’t follow the calendar. It follows the heart, step by step, memory by memory.


    “Happy fucking holiday.”

    An original poem by: Axton N.O. Mitchell

    I’m depressed,

    and my life isn’t even a mess

    compared to what it used to be.

    Recently, I learned:

    grief isn’t something

    medication will ever ease.

    You
    have
    to
    let
    it

    drop you to your knees.


    The pills really do work

    for what they’re worth.

    But I still have to get used

    to the loss of you.

    And now your dog is gone too.

    She held so many memories
    of you:

    the way you put her in your purse,

    the way you two were attached.

    The way she looked
    at me
    like she knew
    she’d be with you.

    Letting
    go

    has never come easy to me.

    I don’t think

    I’ll ever fully heal

    the loss of
    you.

    Maybe I can’t…

    If it’s true

    medicine for depression

    can’t touch

    what grief has caused.

    Now what will

    carry me
    through

    the loss of
    you?


    This one came out of the type of day when everything felt too close. I kept thinking about how healing never looks like what people promise. Folks hand out easy lines. They say time heals everything, or that pills fix the hurt. However, they never sit with what grief really does. Losing someone shifts the ground under you, and sometimes the memories that stay behind hit just as hard. Even the dog carried pieces of that story. Writing this was my way to accept the truth. Medicine can soften the edges, but it can’t erase the shape of a loss. It felt important to say it out loud. If someone out there needs that same permission to feel what they feel, I hope this poem offers them comfort. This poem can give them space to breathe.

    Grief asks us to carry the weight of love long after someone is gone. It shows up in the soft places, the unexpected reminders, the empty corners where laughter used to live. This poem is part of a larger journey through healing and memory. It explores the fragile work of moving forward even when the heart refuses to forget. If this piece met you where you are today, stay with that feeling. Let it be a reminder that your grief is real, and your healing is real. You don’t have to rush toward some polished version of recovery. You’re allowed to take it slow. You’re allowed to remember. You’re allowed to feel all of it… especially on the days when the world tells you to smile.

    Poeaxtrys Links. Poetizer. A poem.


  • The Spill Volume 7: Poems, Vacation Adventures, Hidden Freebies, and What’s Next with Poeaxtry_

    The Spill Volume 7: Poems, Vacation Adventures, Hidden Freebies, and What’s Next with Poeaxtry_


    Vacation

    It’s been one hell of a few weeks. I picked up extra days at work to prepare for vacation. All while I am still trying to deal with some kind of collarbone or shoulder injury. I hope to eventually figure out which one. I just got back from a great vacation filled with hiking, climbing, and chasing waterfalls. We also swam a lot. Those steps at Frying Pan Tower are still burning my thighs. Of course, I am already missing my sister and all the good times we had. It definitely ended way too soon.

    My drive home wasn’t boring, either. I stopped at New River Gorge and Hawk’s Nest. I checked out Lover’s leap and Cathedral Falls. I was drenched by rain, but it was worth every damn drop. The photos and videos say it all. Damn, I love those views!


    Creativity

    On the creative side, I have a bunch of new poems. They include: “This Part of Me Is Sick,” “Not the Sun,” and “A Reminder.” I’m thinking about dropping some of those soon, so keep your damn eyes peeled. I honestly have loads more that haven’t made it here yet. If you know what’s up, you’ll stay tuned for more Poeaxtry’s Poetry Prism madness.

    Oh, yea! I’m hiding interactive extras in my E-zines to differentiate them from an E-book! Some things will even be collectible from zine to zine! You’ll have to check them out to see!

    Around where I hike and roam, I’ll be hiding bookmarks that link to free digital downloads. One batch sends you to PayHip, the other to Gumroad. They will each have a one time use code! It’s just my way of keeping the community connected, offering freebies, and getting my work out there! Check hiking trails and free libraries near you!

    Speaking of zines, Tethered Fury is out now on Gumroad and PayHip for $9.99. I haven’t put it on Etsy. I am mostly trying to continue moving away from Etsy completely after the Alligator Alcatraz fiasco. Right now, I’m focusing on PayHip, Gumroad, and maybe Ko-fi for digital sales and freebies. What do you think? Are the cool kids still on Etsy? Has anything really changed? Let me know where you think I should be selling my physical products next.

    Free Zines?

    If you want to connect, or if you need a free copy of Tethered Fury, check out my Connections page. This is especially for those with BPD or another mental illness. You can also email me at poeaxtry@gmail.com. Just ask for the BPD Free Zine code. I’m also always happy to hook you up with freebies in exchange for honest reviews or other indie creations. DM me for details.

    Thanks for sticking with me through the mess. I’m back on the grind and keeping things moving on time, or at least closer to on time!

    Don’t forget my two community collaborations projects. They will feature art, essays, poems, and prose from minority voices. Check my projects page or email me at poeaxtry@gmail.com if you want in or want more info.

    Much love,

    Axton N.O. Mitchell

    @Poeaxtry_

    Form to get Tethered Fury for FREE!
    Free Digital Collections for honest reviews.
    Links