Explosive

Scarred existence
seeks a patience
born of peace

Cannot find the path
tainted ruts of blood
line a minefield.

(Poem originally appeared on Twitter. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)

Window Cleaning

Married addiction
adopted denial
settled for basics

Espoused spirituality
ignored infidelity,
pulled down the blinds.

Believed compassion
could compensate
for indifference.

Limited my outlook
to windows, too insecure
to de-smudge the pane.

Missed the gaping doorways,
the blatant rudeness
of belligerent disrespect

Till withdrawal prompted
accountability, commanded
ownership, changed the lock.

(Image from personal collection.)

Was that really me
fought for feminine rights,
eleven-years-old
persistent to the win?

And was that me
lied about her age
strapped on work clothes
bore responsibility?

And did you know her
that obstinate teen
who defied tradition
and chased an education?

Where did she go,
a faint memory now,
how life tamed her,
taught her subservience

to bury her light
in the shadow of men’s
dreams, that toil should be
selfless, and love for other.

Listen, and you will hear
her echo, faint but growing,
the sound of a mind burning,
the laughter of a soul on fire.

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: Was that really me?, and Eugi’s Weekly prompt: laughter. Image from personal collection.)

Fragmented
as this soul may be
fear not this disarray –
I flow with a rhythm –
emphatic beats tuned
to love’s call.

(Image from personal collection)

“Let’s play!” honked the goose
to the duck, duck, duck,
“I’ll hide and you come find me.”

“Let’s dance!” sang the tree
to the icy river flow,
as sun smiled broadly.

“Come find joy! Nature whispers
bright skies parting winter blues,
white radiance leading the way.

(Poem and photos for Cee’s On The Hunt for Joy challenge and Nancy Merrill’s A Photo a Week challenge: at play.)

A murder of crows
observes my passage,
anchors my presence

In nature, I trust –
all else is noise.

(Visit me on Twitter for more poetry snippets. @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)

My heart is a brook,
joyous as a child’s song,
memories like moss
warm my wintry verges –
luminescence from within.

(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku challenge: brook/ moss; and Eugi’s weekly prompt: luminescent.)