Contemplating new life –
he, gainfully employed,
promotes change eagerly –
years of isolation render me
dubious, aspirations limited
to a cup of tea, fear dining out
his palate embraced by any menu,
mine a complex set of restrictions,
condemned to serial disappointment
undaunted by my disabilities, he
ventures forth, seeks solutions
with godlike inspiration commands
possibility, accounts for idiosyncracies
pursues alternative options, is a master
of ensuring that dreams do come true.
Impulse would take me back –
resurrect lost passions –
a grave robber taking counsel
from the dead – volatility
a public declaration of extent
of bad choices – no exaggeration –
stench of unburied dreams burn
the eyes when exposed to open air,
the politeness of civil society.
(Image:Â mongolschinaandthesilkroad.blogspot.com)
What options for long term care?
Will life linger, abandon me, alone?
If unconditional love exists, then let
it talk to me, gesture desire, offer
support – safety only comes with sleep
despite this troubled unconsciousness;
oversensitive, naive perhaps, will make it,
if only I push outside the comfort of my bed.
suspicious of following, consuming, believe
that outsiders have forgotten me, worried –
security lies in the hands of loving, attentive
companion, otherwise; trying to trust life.
(Image:Â perfumeonherpassport.wordpress.com)
Split commitments:
One is ambitious,
the other a wanderer;
one labours while
the other lingers.
Yet alike:
Polished political performers,
once knew how to party,
now regressed,
searching for youth –
His a flop,
hers nourished by weed,
each hiding
desperately attempting
to clean up the misery.
He overindulges,
she tries to steer,
both losing their edge
nothing new to offer
former lovers
now fading away,
only thoughtfulness
and a craving for
each others’ support
to bind them.
(Image:Â truefactsonlife.blogspot.com)
I see it in their eyes –
the fear for my safety –
have not been able to paddle
my own boat for some time,
and here I am contemplating
going against the current,
taking a leap, seeking out
new sheltered places.
Survival is risky, they say –
risk is necessary if we’re ever
going to shake this malaise –
no explanation will appease them,
cannot understand the empowerment
that comes from discovering other realities –
promise to stay away from danger –
there are waterways, lands, mountains
to explore – this is not betrayal.
It is moving on, effective collaboration,
we will get along, disclose our differences,
have found willing transport, please
understand, children, we will work
this out, need to create a new reality –
one that allows for relaxation,
celebration – there is nothing left here
but a legacy of suffering, our absence
doesn’t mean our hearts are missing –
our love will be forever present.
(Image:Â artimagesfrom.com)
Spontaneity craves opportunity,
ignores setback – will not wait,
prepare – is ready, it sweetness
a charm, luring and strangling.
Just rumours, this rage-tired hurt
calculating appearances, facade
ambition-not-happening deters all
hope of aid; organization could be
an opening – regulate responses,
indicate good things happening
in the wings, projecting warmth –
the fear is discovery, stepping out
from comfort – creativity is willing,
intelligence on board – vulnerability
pervades, adds to the conversation,
lacks wind – manipulation, criticism
all plot to dissuade – what peace is
there in exposing identity? Â Persona
needs overhaul, sorry energy resists
change, only hope the assurance of
quick-witted bravado – preference is
to let someone else reign, continue
absence – force is needed to propel
this anxiety-heavy body, exuberance
would breathe life, crush self-serving
put downs, fear of disappointment,
and telltale self-image; ignore the
riotous ‘no’ and oust the narcissist.
(Image:Â mamiverse.com)
Watching a movie that I PVR’d –
hunkered down with popcorn and fizz,
hoping to get lost in the couch cushions –
when I remember that I might have homework
more specifically an assignment related to a show
already in progress, and I don’t know where I put
my backpack, and while searching frantically, suddenly
recall that I have more work due, and my boyfriend is
coming over in an hour, and IÂ panic that I’ll never get
it all done, and then in a moment of clarity, realize
I am also taping the program in question, and sigh,
and take a breath: it’s doable if I stay up all night.
Riding in the backseat of a jacked up jeep –
the taste of freedom blowing through my hair –
when the driver hits a bump, catching me unaware,
sends my lack-of-seat-belted-ass into the air, and I
frantically grab the roll bar, praying to get my bottom
back in the seat before he hits another bump tossing
me out of the vehicle entirely, when I realize that we’ve
driven onto the field, the entire school filling the bleachers,
and if I lose my grip now, it won’t just be my body that will
be broken, but I run the risk of becoming the laughing stock
of the school: my entire reputation at stake from a joy ride.
This teenage angst is overwhelming me –
guidelines and deadlines – too much authority
and not enough free time – just want to break loose,
shake off responsibility, hang with my friends, be
foolish, and to hell with consequences, but my
A-obsessed sensibility and “good girl” persona
take charge, and there’s no slacking off, and
I’m locked in an eternal state of yet another
obligation to fulfill before I can rest, and in a
blink I am fifty-eight and a Grandmother, and
I still haven’t taken time to watch that movie
that I PVR’d or dared to joy ride without a hitch:
still tangled in the impotent pursuit of perfection.
If I could, I would ask the dead
about the secrets of life, raise
spirits to help me understand
this phenomena of cancer, the
need to find relief in addictions,
the key to successful relations.
Or perhaps It is the youth, set
on creating the next YouTube
sensation, who have insights
I should pay attention to, but
they seem to prefer contrived
reality, ignoring mundane life.
Asking the heads of education
what the guiding principles are
for living a good life seems use-
less; they are too buried beneath
the red tape of bureaucracy, out
of touch with front line teaching.
I might ask new immigrants who
carry with them an accented
authority and certainty about the
meaning of life that I have not
considered – their faith and hope
badges of courage that betray
our lack of social cohesiveness.
I feel compelled to investigate
why this hard-working, caring
soul has sold herself three times
for love and continues to come up
victim; is it an insatiable need
for attention or lack of willingness
to let go of the past and just be?
(Image: btloc.com)
There’s a place, at the intersection
of break downs and choices ahead,
where I have ownership, but avoid.
Courage resides there, and other
parts of self unnamed – I haunt
the place by night, intrigued by
the camaraderie, lack the guts
to venture into the unknown –
decidedly a criminal element;
need a sense of adventure to aid
escape, squeeze me past seedy,
neglected, cracked pane spaces;
lack wheels, coordinates confused –
am located who knows where –
war for independence my identifier.
In daylight, I am redeemed, visited
by semblances of normalcy, sweet
offerings of obligation, distraction;
revel in youth’s exuberance, pretend
that gifts of kindness sustain me,
ignore the relentlessness of corners.
Circumstances shift –
breath the fertile air –
let dreams fly, expand,
embrace change – hope
now winged, an explorer
bursting with possibility.
I would move this old
body, relocate to new
beginnings, be reborn
but for these internal
trappings – begging for
extermination – retro
shaded memories –
long past expiration –
skewed accessibilty,
stretched without purpose,
reconfiguration required –
history a real estate, I need
to unload; who will buy
a drama-laden, single
story alcoholic’s haunt?
Circumstances shift –
sniff the fertile air –
guard forbidden dreams
change, like wings, unfolds
in its own time; be patient,
possibility is taking flight.
(Image from: vijaycool.wordpress.com)
One Woman's Quest 
