I chase dreams
never daring to rise
beyond the water line
keeping to the reeds
and shoreline of familiarity
afraid of being shot down
Afraid that dreams aren’t mine
to claim, that I am damned
doubled cursed as woman
and child of sin
I will fall often
drown in pools of stagnation
till one day these wings
A mind of their own
will lift me up
and catch those dreams.
(Image my own)
It seems like Winter and a slower pace was just weeks ago. Now, we’re immersed in graduations, birthdays, and holiday gatherings and I’m feeling the pull to do it all. Circling the crash.
Need to polish off my ‘no’ and put it in practice, I think.
The events of the past few weeks, plus the rain, seemed to have caught up with me. Day’s goal: rest, rest, and more rest.
(Photo mine)
This breach –
this ever-widening gap
fear induced
pits us
against them
as if humanity
can be divided
salvation
a selective process.
We need a balm
to soothe societal
wounds, a tonic
to calm the angst
until clarity
quells the uproar
and kindness
replaces this sin.
(Poem originally appeared June 2019. Image my own)
Awakened by a crash just past midnight, I quickly realized my husband was not in bed and had fallen again. It’s the second time in two weeks. He couldn’t get back up.
Paramedics arrived within minutes. Three strapping men had him on his feet again in no time. He was jostled but okay.
I laid awake for hours.
It’s hard not to worry, focusing instead on the good.
This note is to myself. Encouragement to keep moving forward.
We held a garage sale this past Saturday – no small feat for two gimpy old folks. Fortunately, we had help, and as it was a town-wide event, there were many people out.
Still exhausted two days later, but feeling like this squirrel with his treasure – blessed by abundance.
(photo mine)
Favourite colour?
Black, says she
without hesitation;
I falter, stumble
mind reaching –
who likes black?
Is that a colour?
It’s all colours,
she’s nonchalant
intent on task –
carefully keeping
within the lines
Of course it is,
ill equipped am I
to disagree, images
of dark somber
corners, sorrow
and death crows –
Why black? ask I –
composure forced –
had anticipated pink
equate childhood
with primary shades
splotches of yellow
and rainbow skies
candy red apples
on lollipop trees
but black? no –
black obliterates,
negates, destroys
It holds the colour
inside, she explains;
It’s the outline.
Not annihilation –
order; her mind
conceives of order
so much to learn
from innocence
have long forgotten
the art of staying,
within lines, finding
good in all things.
(Drawing from a different granddaughter: her GG)
