Month: January 2019

Maybe

Maybe I just needed a new perspective –
like the famed Hanged Man of tarot –
committed to some deep, internal need,
willed a horizontal shift, landed with intent.

Maybe it is not my legs that are disabled,
but a soul longing to escape the continual
discord of perpetual motion, a never-ending
to-do list of the success driven persona.

Maybe there is a greater purpose for being
that is not encompassed by outer drive –
a mysterious meaning that is revealed only
in the quiet stillness in which I now dwell.

Maybe I have been called to a personal
pilgrimage – a Camino of sorts, a crusade
of spirit designed to cleanse and enlighten –
the journey is certainly arduous enough.

Maybe it is through acceptance, finally
having released  a need to control, move,
achieve, accomplish that I am able to
embrace the true lessons of suffering.

Maybe this cocooning is an act of Grace
demanding surrender before the actual
transformation occurs, and I will emerge
legless or not, winged and ready to soar.

Maybe, just maybe, this stripped down,
barren existence is not a penance for
shameful living, but a desert crossing,
offering re-alignment, hard-fought peace.

(Maybe first appeared here in February of 2017, three years into my journey with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.  I am posting it today as it fits with this week’s theme: upside-down.  Image is the mirror reflection of trees across the canal – from personal collection)

Frost Bitten

Gnarly, these withered limbs,
this vessel more rigidity than flow,
winter upon me, a permanent clouding,
sunnier days passed – oh how vivid
the imagination when blue skies
met green grass, no hindrances

Old dreams hover, tethered to fences –
defences to camouflage vulnerability,
offences to keep my paths cleared

Find balance in isolation –
an old tree, past her prime –

Would cut loose this precarious
hold on all things fantastical,
but fear the act a harbinger –

So, I bide my days in this
frigid limbo, and hold on.

(Today’s poem is inspired by the image from Willow Poetry’s challenge:  What Do You See?  I am also linking up to dVerse’s pub night, where Sarah is hosting with the prompt: harbinger.  Ragtag Community provided balance, and Fandango’s word is tree.)

Role Models

When Scarsdale failed,
she resorted to corsets,
and girdles – trussed up
like a teabag –
sucked in her bits,
hair a touch too red,
nails forever chipping –
Dad’s disapproval a sour note –
watched as Mom steeped
in resentment, waited
for the boiling point.

(This quadrille is written for dVerse, hosted tonight by Mish, with the topic of steep.  I am also linking up to Ragtag Community – note; and Fandango’s – resort.)

Water Tales (2)

Lead the children to the waters’ edge,
let spirits that dwell there enchant,
sun glistening on star-filled eyes…..

teach the essence of dolphin breathing,
the presence of manna, how to question
roots and behold miracles of fish that fly

and colours that shimmer below the surface,
and sons that walk on water – there are stories
to be told by tides, whose rhythmic waves

follow a primal chant; the ocean’s whispers
reminders that survival is a game for the living
and that in death all return to its vast depths.

(Water Tales first appeared here in January 2017.  I am submitting it here for dVerse’s Open Link Night hosted by Grace.  I am also linking up with my weekly challenge: stillness.)