Category: adversity

Grey

Lured by azure waters,
the promise of carefree days,
I cruise ocean’s waters,
dream myself exotic.

Grey clouds loom, mock
this pretence – waves swell
crash, blacken horizon –
delusion loosing ground.

What force is this,
drags me into aphotic depths,
insists I swim in darkness?

Have I not proven tenacity,
claimed a place amongst the willing?

It is not light, I seek – too sinful
for redemption – just the solace
of familiar grey….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Duelling Personas

Outward facing –
contrived effort –
composure checked,
face appropriately presented.

I turn away –
internal chaos clouding –
lacking resources
for social banter

Wolves taunt me –
predatory monsters
shaming me into retreat –
defences down.

Wade back into superficial,
desperation seeking solace –
hide the flooding within.

 

 

Lost Directions

Partnered once, with compassion –
believed in power of human touch,
dedicated self to caring, certain
I’d found my body of work

Time and circumstance intervened;
I drifted, lost in an eddy of confusion,
marital fray ending in separation –

Life moves in circular cycles, and
I revisit that work now, wonder if
parts are salvageable, viable –

fragments outdated, irrelevant –
compassion still holds merit,
what if I let it drive, put ego
in the passenger seat –

would she steer us down one-way
streets, against the flow to traffic,
rattle elusive confidence –

without trust in process, I lack
assurance of youth’s glory –
would not survive the scramble

Circular lines bypass, spiral;
we are not meant to go back;
must breathe and stop grasping.

(Lost Directions first appeared here in October 2017.  I have edited it and resubmit for my weekly challenge: compassion.)

Bleeding Edges

Wrap myself in verdant dreams –
creaseless envelope of hope –
have written my deepest desire,
sealed the vessel shut…

meanwhile, reality oozes red,
like puss from open wounds,
creeps into careful corners,
bleeds through edges…

nothing neat about dreaming –
life demands, cuts, prods,
does not bargain – hope is fine
unless control is the container.

(Inspired by the prompts of Ragtag Community: verdant; Fandango: meanwhile; and Reena’s Exploration Challenge: bleeding edge.)

Image from personal collection.

Losing Ground

In corners, I scrounge –
resilience fading;
hope, it seems, is sleeping.

Living a quarter life,
even ascents depressed;
dubious that alternatives
are worthwhile.

Walls would suffice –
once dreamt of co-habitating
with abundance,
now housed with constraints.

Age losing preferences,
counting worries either way.

Wrong Place

Temporarily encamped
in enemy territory,
a confidante, observer,
practicing external camouflage –
a dangerous game.

Am witness to hatred –
the deep-seated, ‘us’ vs ‘them’
mentality that divides –
vulnerability on high –
I am clearly ‘other’ –

a tourist trapped,
powerless to affect change,
in need of escape.