Author: VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

Is There An Exit Strategy?

Following political tides –
mesmerized by neglect
of actual issues – playing
to an audience of moaners
(standard consumerist
plights) – glossing over
exploitation of women,
verbal slaughter of race,
religion and social values

Wondering about media –
who commandeer bias,
swallowing atrocities and
spewing contrived truths,
absent sound voice, or will,
jeopardizing the security
of so many trampled in
the race for what? Surely
not responsibility – what

lapse of conscience has
allowed hateful rhetoric
to bloody progress, no
consequences?  Who will
bear the burden when in
the absence of morality
or respect for humanity,
the margins will increase?

The world quakes at the
failure to acknowledge
this broken path, see only
a devaluation of assets,
perceive a race that did
no more than increase
the monarchy of a king,
grant power to absolve
sins – a sleight-of-hand
trick – nothing to do with
the common habitants –
have so many questions
about how they’ll proceed.

(I wrote this poem in 2016. Same issue, different date. Surreal. Image my own)

Lines

Give me a map
and I will trace the lines
of where I have been

A timeline
will communicate
my raison d’être

Report cards
demonstrate the depth
of my conformity

Lines on my face
a testament
to personal efforts

Good girls colour in the lines
and I am no different
waxing orange and green

Wishing to create contours
differentiate self
from the compliance

Essence is fluid
and lines flimsy
and substance seeks
exposure and celebration

And try as I might
the orange of my soul
bleeds into blank spaces

and green of my nature
reaches across divisions
and I shall not succumb

to prescribed limits
and I invite you to do the same
colour with me outside the lines.

(Art my own)

I Wish I Could Believe

That Covid is no more than the flu
that Climate change is a not real
that political speak is baffle

But my body, wracked with pain
knows too much about the nuances
of viral infections…this is no cold

And I’m too old to deny
that pollution has long threatened
our ecosystems and that reckless
disregard for our Earth home
has consequences

And that discernment
seems to have gone astray
in this Social Media whirl
We need to dig deeper
if we want sustainable change

I wish I could believe
that democracy is a given-
forget the wars and sacrifices
it took to get us here-
look away while it slips….

I wish I could have faith
that God had a hand in all this
but I can’t shake the feeling
that ignorance is bliss
and I know too much

(Image my own)

Societal Ask

Can we acknowledge the richness of our resources:
that which sustains and endures? Always looking for the next shiny thing,
craving the exotic, the surprising… pushing purpose, movement… toward what? Telling ourselves we want lifelong commitment, and then moving on… emotions depleted. How do we define standards, intuit and reassemble a frame, counsel a collective, when expectations, creeping and woven into consciousness, resemble oppression? Hope -as sold by patriarchal mindsets, striving to mutilate common sense – is useless to revive when society teaches us to blindly follow the unintelligible…

Full moon a warning –
reverence for mystery
not conspiracy

Society’s light
waning on the back of lies-
hopelessness surreal

Hate is born from fear
disinformation a tool –
We are being played.

Step back! Cautions moon
observe under a new light –
reconnect with love.

(This poem, derived from a dream, started as a haibun – prose followed by a haiku – but the haiku multiplied. Guess we will call it a variation on a haibun. Image my own.)

Tongue Tied

Two-tongued –
speaking both heart and mind –
complex languages
whose nuances
I’ve never quite mastered,
yet believe myself
to be conversant in.

It’s a constant learning
to nail enunciation –
linguistics a tiresome topic

the mind –
a guttural dialect –
leans towards equation
and absolutes –
hard consonants and long vowels

while heart-speak
rolls off the tongue –
soft, cooing syllables,
elongated tones, and
whimsical passages

I’d happily demonstrate
the extent of my proficiency
but the two tongues
are currently contradictory –
the clamour of their discord
drowning out the peace
requisite for translation.

(A fun piece I originally wrote in 2018. Edited for this version. Image my own)

Could It Be?

Walking away –
the only solution
I’ve ever excelled at…

…and yet, absence
does not obliterate
that which dwells within

I can pretend that I have nothing
to offer, but life and circumstance
require more of me…

…a challenge to exhume
the remains of my potential…
Will I be up to the task?

There is flattery in being looked up to –
the feeling that someone needs me –
but that is akin to temptation – an ego play

Could it be that acquired knowledge
has merit only when shared;
that we are all here to offer our piece;
that in releasing what I’ve learned,
I will find flow, feel in sync again,
restore my abilities and reignite
a passion for teaching?

Dare I hope?

( I first wrote this poem in 2017, three years after being bedridden with ME. Interesting to go back now and acknowledge that life still did have purpose for me. So grateful.

Image my own)

Whale Dreams

Exposed are we,
voyageurs crossing
this great expanse-

One tiny vessel
bearing life’s weight,
two oars to navigate

Unknown depths below
and shadows murky –
we push on. Row. Row.

Sights set on new land
uncharted possibilities –
pray the crossing favours us

Then a shape emerges –
great hulking mass –
parting waters,
rising and transforming

Is this a caricature of our fear?
I am mesmerized,
project a divine presence
look for mystical signs

He shrugs,
pragmatically notes that
the St Lawrence is home
to such mammals

I dream of whales,
crave communion –
yearn for their certainty
their knowing

Just as I wait for a sign
from the departed –
inviting a simpler life,
inspiring hope…

A shore life,
from which I can observe
the numinous.

(Image my own. This is a rewrite of an earlier post)