Category: adversity

Too Far Gone

Been taking inventory,
gathering essentials,
craving nourishment,
coming up lacking –
cartoon version of a former self.

Spirituality, once fiery
now looms over me,
a stilted attempt to uplift –
redefinition of self –
grossly overstated.

I have been locked up,
misread, am unkempt,
a dishevelled mess –
childish demonstrations
proclaiming innocence.

All the while mouthing
nothingness – exaggerated
exuberance, tiring even me –
have destroyed compassion
with carelessness

I would embrace Spirit,
be comforted by that old familiar
warmth, declare faith
and be absolved of guilt,
but I am too far gone.

Anchored in Morbidity

Cruising fills my fantasies –
reveling in life, loved ones in tow,
prideful, excited –
sailing past Mecca,
places of service,
relinquishing embellishments,
fully alive!

Conceived in strife –
a familial intrigue
with the macabre –
I am dragged along
treacherous passages,
abandoning joy for desolation,
preoccupied with loss of life.

Reviled, I retreat
flee, crying out in alarm,
cannot tolerate
flesh-eating
walking dead

Crave restoration
of equilibrium,
a life purpose
worthy of visibility

am stalked
by regrets –
a damaged child
seeking baser needs-
elude her!

Launch this ship;
sail into the exotic –
escape!

Responsibility
anchors me,
secrets and wounds
regress – I am
the living dead,
locked out,
focus crowded

need a new defense
if I am to intentionally
recapture relation
ships.

Evolution

Evolution takes effort –
requires a heart unburdened
by unrequited daydreams
holding me in limbo, emphasizing
past heartaches, yearning
for unconditional love.

I pedal backwards, am
overwhelmed by where
the past has led me –
exaggerated reproductions,
laughing at my proposals,
spurning attempts at reparation –
I am out of touch, stale dated.

I long to make a difference,
find value in youth – declarations
of worthiness are jeopardized
by this state of immobility –
I hang on tighter, resist
progress, believe hope
is in the past – obligations
wrench me back to present –
evolution a preferable destination.

Absence

Slippers, perched at night stand,
twitching impatiently,
mark the absence of feet,
cannot appreciate the meaning
of unruffled bed covers.

Abandoned, a coffee mug
bemoans its curdling contents,
complains of thick brown lines
contaminating its porcelain shine,
has not noted absence of hands.

Chair, pushed back from desk,
in partial rotation, sits awkwardly,
commanding attention, disturbed
by its misalignment, has not thought
to ponder absence of body.

House, uncomfortable with silence
creaks unnaturally, loudly voicing
objections to the absence of footfalls,
automated machinery and incessant
rings, beeps, and chimes of technology.

I try to reassure them that the absence
is only temporary, that the man whose
presence so strikingly fills this space
will return,  hope they cannot read
the apprehension in my tremulous heart.

Choices

“Come live with us”, Mother suggests
in her there’s-nothing-we-can’t-handle
tone of voice.  Father lowers paper,
raises eyebrows, stern blue eyes
flashing over spectacle rims, says
nothing.  Am I supposed to interpret
concordance or contradiction?

“But you live in a box!  Where would
I sleep?”  “More of a rectangle.”
I contemplate room dividers, imagine
claiming a corner of the room.

Or I can move in with the man-child,
learn to tolerate delusions, listen
to incessant rants of how he’s been
wronged, content myself with
picking up after endless trails of
discards – same four-walled
containment, different cohabitant.

But wait!  “Where’s the plumbing?”
How does one discreetly manage
personal excrement in a one-roomed
existence?  I startle; awaken.

No plumbing needed here;
I’ve received an invitation
from the grave!

Sometimes life gives us choices;
no guarantee either will be palatable.

th

Bad Birthday

I would celebrate the day,
enjoy the spoils of my work,
receive abundance of blessings

but guilt showed up, floated in
wearing a sexy red overcoat,
and I couldn’t turn her away.

Camouflaged by fiery passion,
she tried to force feed me pearls
of wisdom, passed her gems

like bestowing an inheritance;
I choked, then resisted, invited
paranoia to join the party fray;

ducked accusations of treachery,
projectiles of blame targeting
unwitting intentions – employed

only to serve – was villainized
when I refused to take part,
openly defied her nonsensical

attacks, realized that dubious
mismanagement makes a poor
companion; guides my tainted

conscience with manipulation,
marries me to scrambled ideals,
births chirping perfection, (talent

undeniable), I am hopeful till
guilt chimes in, catching me off-
guard, forcefully convincing;

appealing to a death wish;
suspicion arrives, interrogates,
deflects responsibility, denies

truth – how did it all turn out
so wrong, this day that was
meant to celebrate my birth?

 

Sorrow’s Vigil

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
when the light of day has faded,
and the noise of life subsided,
and all the world is slumbering.

Then my heart beats with a single
lone drum, a heaviness weighing
on me, chest punctured with grief,
distractions losing their hold.

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
a deep-seated darkness, void of
hope, the deafening echo of unshed
tears, the brutality of solitude.

When all have surrendered to dreams,
my soul – tired of the daily effort to be
courageous, to smile when I want to
rage, to protect my beloveds – weeps.

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
the grief of knowing that this defective
existence is too much for others to
bear, whose hearts have glazed over,

who will me to wellness, shake
their heads, and spew frustration,
as if I am somehow an accomplice
in this state of vile stagnation,

There is sorrow in the nighttime,
when questions rob me of sleep,
and the passage of time fails to
ease the injustice of so much loss.

And while acceptance is the best
progress, and I know that faith
will sustain me, they are fickle
companions when the sun sets.

There is sorrow in the nighttime
a restless amalgamation of so
much emotional angst, with no
shelter for relief…

 

Response to Scorned

Hey, I didn’t force you into my bed,
seem to recall you came willingly,
never pretended to be Prince Charming,
was actually intimidated by your Disney
fantasies – thought you liked our
intimacy, would have got up to look
after the children, but you were already
on it, and besides, I never do it right.

The other woman was never about you,
it was about me, feeling inadequate in
face of your uber-confidence, getting
my ego stroked, and …well, you know –
never imagined it would lead here, value
my family – leave the children out of it!

Emasculation?! Let me tell you, working
my ass off to make you happy, when one
minute you say you want one thing, and
the next you chastise my for not knowing
that was a ploy and that I should know
what you actually want, because I am
supposed to be a mind reader – and how
did I know that your great-uncle Bob was
a leach, so I’m expected to make reparation.

Okay, I made a mistake, gave into temptation,
went for the bait, but it was never her I wanted.
All I want is the couple we used to be, that
happy go-lucky, hotter than hell twosome,
who dreamed of a family, and a mortgage,
two cars, two kids, and a dog – I just didn’t
realize it would all be so hard – and somehow
I just started to feel left out of the party, and
don’t worry I’m getting my payback – will
be punished forever – you try being a man!
th-1

Herd or Heard

Society moves en masse,
flowing with the tides,
propelled by a shared
consciousness.

Destination unknown;
purpose undetermined.

We take flight, cling
to wings of promise,
ignore the stench
of destruction.

Reaching for the sky;
barely hanging on.

We land, school together
tell tales of adventure
document progress
avoid reality

proponents of diversity;
shunning differences

All among us has a story
shies from speaking aloud
fears castigation
deflects

fearlessly outspoken:
scapegoating sins.

Daring to speak a truth,
I falter, watch as the
crowd retreats in
shunning silence.

Destination unknown,
purpose undetermined.

th-1