aging – Page 6 – One Woman's Quest

Self Portrait in Colours

Found an old diary –
days when I prayed to the angels
painted myself white, believed
in a God that cared about personal
agendas – painted myself pathetic

Took me back to days of heartbreak,
when I pined after a man, unavailable,
painted myself pink – an altruistic heart
yearning after the unrequitable,
willing to sacrifice, change –
painted myself foolish

Read between the lines about a woman
so desperately co-dependent she’d risk it all,
painted herself yellow, projected sunshine,
believed in fairy tale endings, threw away
dignity, sanity – painted herself delusional

Wondered how she’d ever survive,
knew that life intervened in the end,
painted her broken –
and somehow she found strength,
moved on, made better choices,
learned to love herself,
painted herself indigo.

(Self Portrait in Colours first appeared here Aug/2016. Image my own)

Small Measures

Charcoal-etched dreams
smudged on the canvas of time…

Direction has been lacking,
understanding remiss

That I remain – sail upright –
is feat enough…

(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch my own)

Hindsight

Bubble-wrapped memories –
days when travel was frequent,
wine poured freely,
fitness a given.

Even in those sun-soaked days
we were restless, unsatisfied…
not till health diminished
and money dried up

did we appreciate
the fragility
of those years.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

I Am Willow

These bones, they say
will finish me – too brittle
to withstand the race

But I am Willow
recollection wispy
my dance defiant

Porous as a sea sponge
soaking up each day
mettle despite the rattle

(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)

Unquenchable (tanka)

Unquenchable thirst –
drink from the fountain of wild
yet plain, I remain –
sixty years of repressed fire
shall not be easily quelled.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter. Image my own)

Orange

I am orange
fiery as
a sunset
bright as
an Autumn
leaf –
brilliant
in the waning
hours.

(Art my own)

Responsibility vs Love

Like Atlas, I bear
the world’s weight
call it responsibility –
a painful delusion
requiring walls

Life has its own rhythm –
light and dark,
joyous and sorrowful –
orchestration outside
of my domain

Love, however,
is limitless
in its capacity –
open-hearted acceptance
protection in itself.

Trading one focus
for another
permits appreciation –
I vow to assert love
and forgo control.

Grey

Absent solar motivation
I contemplate grey
for grey’s sake…

How despite the dullness
grey does offer a valid backdrop
for white’s delicate presence

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

Let It Go

It’s not intentional
this accumulation
amounting to clutter

It”s inevitable, given
the emphasis on chasing
material happiness

Its impotency is ironic
all superfluous now
that health teeters

Weighs heavily
on my mental state
craving simplicity

The sentiment
we treasure beats
in heart’s memory

Objects age,
lose relevance
generationally

I let go of fear,
the guilt, find
blessed relief

New space inspires
openness, excitement
ensues – freedom.

(Image my own)

The Last Train (Sonnet)

We wait at the station, Mother and I,
one final stop for her – painless she prays;
I busied at bedside – prolonged goodbye –
memories and regrets filling our days.

“We live too long,” she wearily proclaims
“Why must suffering linger till the end?”
I plea and bargain, call angelic names,
yet the will to survive refuses to bend.

The urgency builds as my time dwindles;
must I leave her in this compromised state?
She rallies and stands on wobbly spindles
dismisses fears – has accepted her fate.

Some destinations are clearly defined –
Death is a train whose schedule’s unkind.

(The Last Train first appeared January 2019. Image my own)