A Mother’s Grief

(Art my own. The drawing and the poem were in response to a documentary featuring a mother’s loss of her child by suicide. Please listen with care.)

Sorrow lines her edges
in blue-hued shadows
grief’s moss overpowering light

Lines etched erasable
she is fragmented, haunted
pain a persistent noose

She will rally to find order
lend her voice to cause
speak her child’s name

never without a catch –
the once-honeyed moniker
now slicing, heartbreaking

Vanity holds her together
dresses her daily mask
propels forward movement

While rage, and betrayal
roil within – a silent scream
shattering her inner landscape

Strong, they call her, courageous –
all lies, resentment tell hers –
no loss worthy of such praise

She mothers a ghost now,
does her best to nurture a memory
ties her apron strings to prevention

Secretly counts the seconds
till her faith will release her
returning the child to her arms

(Art my own. The drawing and the poem were inspired by a documentary highlighting a mother’s loss of her child by suicide. Please listen with care.)

Ukraine

Planted seeds for prosperity –
images of children frolicking
the delight of yellow horizons
tradition setting our fields ablaze

Till greed came knocking –
brother turning on brother

Rhetoric and lies shrapnel
shattering our dreams

Only the deer frolic now
unwitting participants in
this unprovoked slaughter
land mines defiling landscapes

But seeds are not lost,
nor are the legacy of generations
whose soil has known the red of blood
spirits who cannot be deterred

Independence will remain ours
the land a testimony to our toil
fortitude born of oppression
Ukraine stands proud.

(Image my own. Currently, in Ukraine, most areas have electricity outages, leaving inhabitants with hours of no light or heat in this cold. Any talk of peace is propaganda. The bombing has escalated.)

An Escape Plan

An incorrigible hag
engages my loneliness –
like an assassin sniffing out
any scent of vulnerability

I am lowering standards
this history of imprisonment
enabling inappropriate openings

I cry for new perspective
ponder after boundaries
intending to defend

Like an unwanted bullseye
I am pursued on repeat
malice considering me
a problem to be solved

Who is this old woman
whose thoughts are daggers
who calls upon predators
to devour my freedom?

And what ancestral legacy
sets me on such tenuous ground
entrusts the key to my soul
to such devilish factions?

I strike out and miss
am twice thwarted
but refuse to submit

Have espied the resources within
will defeat the infernal voices
and confront the witch

Wits calculating
confidence a repellent
teetering on the edge of victimhood
not a path I care to repeat.

(Ink sketch my own)