Some Days

Why am I courting judgment
like an old friend,
popping in unexpectedly?

She overlooks my needs,
barges in reeking
of stale perfume, and
energy-sucking shoulds

I crave the subtle tones of compassion –
quiet whispers over tea –
a gentle pat, words of encouragement

But, truth be told,
I squirm at even this –
hate vulnerability,
hate this weakness on display,
this chronic, fucking disability

Seems I have dressed myself
in judgment’s cloaks,
walk in the pinched shoes
of expectations too tight

No wonder I’m exhausted,
am dying…numbed
to my own drama.

(Image my own)

Of Light

There is light in unknowns –
at least I project it there –
caught between the current
ashen landscape and the achings
of a solitary childhood…

I like to think faith guides me
but she is muted like the gardens
of my dreams, more ethereal
than palpable and I need concrete
have waited too long for that train

of certainty to carry me away…
course it never comes, there is no easy
just a slow, steady plodding: a pace
that age has settled on; so I turn
to inner landscapes, imagination
remembering colour…and yes, light.

(Image my own creation)

Age Has Her Own Quest

What is it that a woman of maturity quests for?

Autonomy: to feel that her decisions/wants/needs
are not overshadowed by the dictates of another,
or by a past that is forever looming.

Empowerment: to know, once and for all, that
the victim is laid to rest, so that she can embrace
her authentic self.

Inner peace: to live without guilt or the need for
permission. To be able to forgive and self and other
in order to be free. To trust, innately, her own
inner resources, releasing fear’s hold.

Sacredness: to stand firmly upon the Earth,
breathe freely, and engage with life. To make
a difference.

Celebration: to live with anticipation, surprise,
and ultimately joy.

Connection: to recognize in each living moment
that none of the above is obtained in a bubble.
I quest for true connection. The bravest quest of all.

(Reading through old posts I came across one from November, 2014 which inspired this write. Image my own.)

Is Progress This?

Is this progress,
this decision to uproot,
cast possessions aside,
free ourselves of ties?

Can his dependency,
my dependency, endure
the transition, released
from former justifications?

We are companions
embarking on adventure,
companions retiring past
lies, redefining possibility

Or, is this more of the same,
artfully camouflaged –
a continuance of flight
from tyrannical origins?

The paths behind are jagged,
wrought with rocks and crevices
and scarred riddles, and yet;
have we not survived? Thrived?

The road ahead is expansive,
our home an ever-changing
landscape, as wide as a continent –
our minds eager to absorb…

This is progress;
we are unburdened,
free spirited, submitting
to new tests of truth.

(Poem first appeared in October, 2017. Image my own)