VJ – Page 214 – One Woman's Quest

Day 245 Gain and Loss

The mistress, meticulously groomed
glows a sun-kissed bronze shimmery
invitation, promising seductive
sensations of pleasure and release.

The husband, tense, overworked,
emotionally overwrought
heeds the call like a sailor
following the lure of sirens.

The flirtation begins in innocence,
he sips from her splendour at a party,
tastes her bittersweetness and
feels himself losing all control.

She is a master, a pupeteer
mesmerizing him with her smooth,
easy ways – lulling him into compliance
and alone; for private indulgence.

The wife, tired, lies awake
the empty space beside her
echoing the hollow place within-
she no longer holds his desire.

Spent and reeking from his illicit encounter,
the husband stumbles into bed,
reassuringly reaching for his wife in the dark.
Unresponsive, she feigns sleep.

They’ll not speak of it tomorrow-
awake and re-engage in the routine they call life.
Not tonight, he’ll tell himself,
Not tonight, she’ll hope.

The mistress sits smugly in waiting,
a never ending supply of liquid gold,
bottled with a promise – subliminally
conditioned to bring personal gain.

No Words

I have no words
that will change your plight.

I cannot undo the past
nor change the course of your life.

I am powerless to rescue,
fix, or uplift you in your time of need.

Please know that I see you,
know that in my heart I weep.

Know that while I empathize
I can never fully understand your pain.

There is no judgment here,
only heartfelt compassion.

When I reach out a hand to you,
wordlessly, it is out of respect.

I believe in you.
I believe in your strength and your courage.

In my silence, know that I bear witness
to the potential that lies within and before you.

I believe in the power of your own love to overcome.
There are no words to define what is possible in life.

(Image: imgarcade.com)

Cycle of Life

Helpless and alone,
a young figure unconsciously
rubs her swelling belly,
hopelessly feeling the tremor within her begin.

Shunned for her sin,
impoverished of mind and body,
she falters, unable to speak
paralyzed with uncertainty for a future already tainted.

Society turns its back,
on the plight of the unwed mother,
revulsed by all she represents,
paralyzed by their own ineptitude in the face of inequity.

Uninhibited the baby arrives,
announcing her birth with a scratchy cry,
filling her lungs with hope and anticipation,
trusting that life will embrace and provide.

She does not know,
in her stark nakedness,
that she is born into tragedy –
fated for a life of hardship and misunderstandings.

Day 243 Violence and Peace

The rage within my father was tangible and made him larger than life, the potential for violence ever-present.

My mother’s attempts at peace-making were fueled by trepidation – always on the lookout, hoping against hope to maintain calm.

Both adopted the facade that ‘all was well’ and deeply denied the reality.

The result – an unnameable terror that gripped us children. No logic explained the tension that surrounded us, however; we understood without doubt that a threat hovered over us in every living moment.

Mother’s attempts at peace were merely misguided acts of enablement; empowering, not disarming my Father.

Uncontested he reigned tyrannically; yet, what he really longed for was peace.

Peace, not peace-making.

Father longed for a sense of acceptance and acknowledgement that was beyond his grasp. He was society’s outcast: unwittingly born into an era where gender definitions were polarized – male or female. He did not know – we did not know – about genetics and the sliding scale that defines gender identification and sexual orientation. He was forced to conform and, therefore; denied basic human rights.

My mother, whose understanding of all things sexual came from watching the animals rut on the farm where she grew up, and pushing away unwanted advances from her father and siblings, was not equipped to understand the enigma presented to her by her husband. She only knew that this tortured soul of a man was the provider for herself and her role was to be submissive and nurturing. She found herself trapped between his ‘awful’ secret and trying to maintain an outer appearance of normalcy.

It was dysfunction at its finest. Unable to resolve their own issues they looked outward, finding causes within their children’s lives to replace their compulsive need to fix. There was never any shortage of broken, needy, helpless occurrences to satisfy their lust.

The answer to violence, and the threat of violence, at least in our home, was not peace-making. In hindsight, it was a need for individualized peace – an understanding of differences, motivations, desires, and a stated acceptance that allowed us to come together in respect and honour for our diversity.

An atmosphere of open-mindedness would have allowed father to reveal his truth.

Assertiveness, on the part of my mother, would have allowed her to set healthy boundaries and limits defining her participation (or not) in my father’s reveal.

Trust in the basic nature of our love for one another might have prevented the constant need for self-preservation, which only turned us away, one from the other.

Inner peace offers a strength that fortifies against fear and outrageousness. It believes in a wisdom that transcends time and space; offering the possibility of order and compassion in the midst of chaos.

The concept of peace – real peace- was not part of my growing up.

Without peace, violence – physical, mental, psychological, emotional or spiritual – reigns.

Day 242 Arrogance and Humility

Humility prepares the way,
selfless, focused on servitude
lending a patient ear to each possibility
befriending challenge with an open mind.

Arrogance arrives late
a cloud of disruption, reeking
of too much perfume,
dressed like a dominatrix
commanding attention.

Such display of total disregard
triggers Humility’s vulnerability
causing hesitation and in that fateful
moment, surrendering control.
Arrogance thrives on chaos.

Humility chokes but regains
perspective, politely, assertively
suggesting Arrogance’s help
is appreciated, but not necessary.
Arrogance whirls and glares.

Feeling the pressure, Humility
holds firm and reaches deep within
and curiously, unexpectedly sees a light
Arrogance has ignited inspiration!

Day 241 Going With the Flow

I could cry tonight,
if it wasn’t so futile.

I would weep for all my losses –
not just this moment of weakness

but the well of energy that once drove me
is

dry

arid

sapped.

Shuffling steps
are punctuated
with

stumbles

and my grasp

falters

and with sorrow
I surrender

to rest

until the tide changes
and I am renewed
and life flows again.

Day 240 “Self-Sufficient”

isolated and incapacitated
I am prohibited from partaking
of the influx of information incessantly presented

consequently cut off
from prescribed expectations
dictating costuming and culture

external expressions of acceptance
are sorely missing, suggesting
an overall lacking of self-worth.

Interestingly inverse to such conclusions
is the sudden contentment that arises
from escaping the mayhem

Internal relief overrides dictated performance
surrendering willingly to intrinsic motivation
and renewed self-acceptance.

Day 239 “Differences”

My friend Lauren has black curls that frame her round face and rosy apple cheeks that make her look like a cherub or that kid on the soup can. She is a year older than I am and has been my best friend forever. Every Sunday after church my family visits with other families and today my parents decided to drop in here, and I’m happy about that. I miss Lauren. When we lived next door to each other, we could play everyday, but now it’s only once in a while.

Lauren has a new board game she wants to play and while she sets up I study her for differences.

“What are you looking at?” she calls me out.

“Nothing,” I say. Except I am. “You’re Catholic, right?”

“Yeah, so what?”

I’d heard my parents arguing last night with Lily, my older sister. My Dad yelled something about not having a daughter of his married to a Catholic and Lily stormed out slamming doors behind her. Mom and Dad continued to talk in raised voices afterwards.

“We’re not allowed to marry Catholics.”

“Yeah, us neither.”

“You’re not allowed to marry Catholics either?!”

“No, Dummy, we’re not allowed to marry Protest….whatever you are.”

“Oh. Why not?”

“I don’t know, they’re different” She looks at me suddenly realizing what she’s said. “I don’t mean like awful different. You’re just fine…. oh… I don’t know what I mean.”

“Me either. I mean, you don’t look different. What’s different about us?”

“Beats me,” Lauren shrugs. “Sometimes adults have funny ideas. Now, to play this game……”

On the way home, I decided to broach the subject. “Dad what is wrong with Catholics?”

“They have different religious beliefs than us.”

“What kind of differences?”

“Well, for one thing they have a Pope that tells them how to live their lives and their churches are run by Priests, men who do not marry.”

“Is that why we don’t like them?”

“Who said we don’t like them?” my Mother pipes in.

“Dad did, last night.”

“I didn’t say we don’t like them, I just don’t want one in the family……I…..” my Father breaks off angrily in his because I say so voice.

My mother looks at me as is to say Let it go, so I stop talking, but I can’t let it go. It doesn’t seem right somehow to judge someone just because they believe in something different. I’m only eight-years-old, but I don’t believe what the Minister says in church every Sunday. Does that make me Catholic?

“What’s wrong with Catholics?” I ask my sister Mai when we get home.

“Nothing except that Lily’s going to marry one.”

“Lily’s getting married?” Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything around here?

“She has to. She’s pregnant.”

“Lily’s pregnant?” This is too much. I march into my parent’s bedroom. “Lily is going to have a baby, and she’s getting married to a Catholic. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s not something we are proud of Beth Ann. It is shameful when a teenage girl becomes pregnant before marriage. Your father doesn’t want it to happen. He’s trying to talk her out of the wedding. Now, we won’t be discussing any of this outside of the family, do you understand?”

She doesn’t have to worry about me; I have a lot of sorting out to do. Lily is pregnant – that means I’m going to be an aunt! That’s exciting, right! I’ll be the youngest Aunt around, well except for Janie – she’ll be a four-year-old aunt – that’s crazy! I really like Lily’s boyfriend, but now that I know he’s a Catholic, is that okay? Is this going to change Lily? Will they take her away and make her all Catholic and different? Does this mean Lily will be leaving home?

Maybe my Dad’s right! Maybe this all happened because my sister dated a Catholic.

Superwoman’s Dark Side

fine-cut crystal, silver and gold
sparkle and entice. the table is laid
for guests aplenty.

savory aromas conjure visions
of sumptuous gravy, delectable roast,
crisp-cooked vegetables, and decadent desserts.

she’d stop to admire her handiwork,
but the children, tired and hungry
and bored with the waiting, tug at her hem.

Waiting. It is her greatest strength.
Prepare, prepare –
then wait.

They’ll arrive shortly, noisily
full of their days, faintly aware
of the backdrop, happy to have left the babies.

And they’ll sit and be served
and remark on the deliciousness
and gobble up seconds
then push back their chairs
and wander off for a kip
or a smoke

and she’ll linger for a few minutes
picking at her congealed gravy- covered mashed
unconsciously dabbing at the red wine stain on the tablecloth
and marvel at how she accomplished it all
once again
without bitching
without protesting
a trouper till the end

What’s that you say?
She’s sounding a bit like the martyr?

Oh no, you’ve found her out.
Superwoman has a dark side.

Martyr’s Lament

I have waken before dawn
and driven through blinding snowstorms for you.
I have been lost, but without faltering, have altered course,
and when I could drive no further, I set out on foot
navigating treacherous snow and ice, risking my life
pushing forward against all odds,for you.

So you could get where you needed to go.
So you could succeed.
I risked it all for you.

All the while I kept you by my side,
So that you would be safe,
so that I could ensure your arrival.

But I grew weary, and my body just would not go on,
and all I asked is that we rest for awhile,
so that I could catch my breath.

And in that instance, you were gone,
no hesitation in your step, no looking back,
and when you finally stopped to wait for me,
it was too late.

A barrier had grown between us: an eight foot, chain-link fence
separating me from protecting you.And you looked me at with that gaze of exasperation,
as if to say that you should have done it on your own.

But wait, I say. Wait.
This wall may seem insurmountable, but I can do it.
I can do it, give me time. I’ll just climb up to the top.
It’ll be easy, you’ll see.

Don’t walk away! Give me one more chance
to prove my love for you.

I do it all for you.