Picture-perfect life
who doesn’t aspire?
I’ve reframed the image
time and time again
Searched for definition
in 5′ x 7′ then 8′ x 10′
But a creative soul
cannot be confined
frames now accents
for the life that flows.
For Reena’s Exploration Challenge #159. Images mine.
– Maya Angelo
I fear living.
No, that’s not it.
I love living…
…but I fear engagement…
…drowning in engagement
Except, I love engagement…
… but only when I dip my toe in the waters
and feel the thrill…
and can still maintain control.
I fear losing control. I fear no longer being able to call the shots, life demanding more of me than I’m willing (or able) to give.
I’m willing to give…
… to a certain point…
…can no longer afford to be sapped dry, wrung out
and discarded… so much hurt
so much betrayal…
such lack of appreciation
I have given.
I have loved and sacrificed and cherished and
given…
…up…
…self
It’s self I’m afraid of losing
and why not?
I am only just able to touch her
She and I, still hesitant
building a certainty
a mutual admiration
respect…
And should I be called upon
to give…too much…well…
I could lose her again.
This is what I fear.
(Two separate blog posts hit me this week. The first offering the Angelo quotation (sorry, I can’t remember the blog’s name) and the second from my friend Dr Andrea Dinardo, who offers the question: What’s Under the Fear? Dr D offers a five step process for self-discovery. This is my response. Image my own. The poem also fits with my weekly challenge theme: except)
Youth flaunts her truth
serious in convictions –
that eternity exists
that words carry worth
Folly naturally succeeds
break down – inevitable
the opportunity to learn –
silent, age considers action.
(Image mine)
Celebrity bores
I crave sapid exchange – bird
song, sweet and tender
I am past prime – gigs dried up
but nature provides plenty.
(Image mine)
Inessential am I
ghost of a woman
burden avoidance
Imperfect am I
each flaw a step
towards deepening blue
And yet, I exist
purpose unknown
shadow dancing.
(Image: Self-portrait)
I weave words
with alacrity –
on a mission
Foreign forces
infiltrate brain
cells scrambling
Must write
till ability wanes
thoughts hang
Disconnected
brushed away
like cobwebs
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Rehearse my role –
charm-school warmth
intellect engaged,
an air of mystique –
Tongue trips
brain backfires
a fool emerges
chagrinned again.
(Tuesday I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. In this case, edited. Image my own.)
Odd, this gift of solitude. Perched canal side, I affirm my connection to the earth, and offer thanks. Late afternoon sun casts a glow on the foliage across the way, lighting up the mirror-still water. Vibrant reflections.
Two winters ago, I fought to breathe as temperatures fell below zero. Impassible walkways trapped me indoors. Depression fought for possession. Hope struggles in imposed isolation.
“There are no absolutes in life,” a professor once told me, and I think of that now –
how just when it feels as if one sentence has been handed down, sealed, an opening appears. I am fortunate, savour the moment.
Heron’s watchful stride
invites reflection, respect –
Winter’s solitude.
(Rapture first appeared here February 2019. I offer an edited version here.
All is movement
all is change
Why then am I stuck
a rock holding its ground?
Each moment flows
into the next
then is gone
Calm unsettles me
I stand upon the bank
and search for rapids
Let go of worry
trust process
Life is a river
Take me to that river
bathe me in faith
for now, I fear the flow.
Didn’t have to say it –
read between the lines,
the “and you too”
as an afterthought
pathetic attempt to
cover truth – ugly
I was, unlike sisters
whose beauty raved
Only in flashbacks,
time gifting objectivity
do I see it wasn’t true –
depth shines through.
(Image from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 