Category: art

A Mother’s Grief

(Art my own. The drawing and the poem were in response to a documentary featuring a mother’s loss of her child by suicide. Please listen with care.)

Sorrow lines her edges
in blue-hued shadows
grief’s moss overpowering light

Lines etched erasable
she is fragmented, haunted
pain a persistent noose

She will rally to find order
lend her voice to cause
speak her child’s name

never without a catch –
the once-honeyed moniker
now slicing, heartbreaking

Vanity holds her together
dresses her daily mask
propels forward movement

While rage, and betrayal
roil within – a silent scream
shattering her inner landscape

Strong, they call her, courageous –
all lies, resentment tell hers –
no loss worthy of such praise

She mothers a ghost now,
does her best to nurture a memory
ties her apron strings to prevention

Secretly counts the seconds
till her faith will release her
returning the child to her arms

(Art my own. The drawing and the poem were inspired by a documentary highlighting a mother’s loss of her child by suicide. Please listen with care.)

Making of a Woman

I know that abyss –
swallowed up as I was
punch-drunk on darkness

Bled as I emerged,
each reach a scrape –
there was release too

Revived now, I honour
that passage, recognize
the making of a woman.

(Making of a Woman first appeared here, December 2021. Image: self portrait in ink)

Compromise

It’s like aiming for the ideal
and settling for second best

Setting your life up for success
then sabotaging the outcome

It’s like committing to a dream
with blinders on – threats ignored

I know where I want to be
have tasted the serenity
steeped in beauty
and lived with peace

Yet the noise continues
the daily bustle,
the inevitable stench
my soul being griddled

It’s what I’ve known, isn’t it?
sanctity at a price –
the absolute terror
of selling out for peace of mind

I will plant gardens here
at the edge of insanity
and outline my future
denial at my side.

(Art my own)

Nature of Relations

Is this estrangement self-imposed
or does my awkward rapture
set me aside?

More engaged in recording nature
than in ordinary banter –
find the portal to human interaction
passing questionable

throngs focus on such peculiarities
while I attempt sketching relations
trees akin to cousins,
and birds happily possessing my soul

we are escapees –
alternate beings
charged with renewal.

(Sketch my own)

In Situ

Upgrading –
setting new standards
learning anew

Kin/ heritage
pursues me –
influence
and legacy

Timid concerning
the unspoken
the understated

Seduction courts
a response –
I am flush with possibility
basking in attention

But God is calling me home –
reminds me of mortality
humbles me in situ

I am already engaged
passion in the moment
dalliances redundant

(Self portrait created blind with acrylic paint and palette knife)

Let Me Out Of Here

Weighed down by complications –
you see, the amount of baggage
I carry surpasses my storage
capacity; and despite attempts
to simplify, paranoia tends to
my bathroom routines, and
no amount of persuasion can
appease her suspicions; and
the majority of my contents
have been accumulated by
my father’s business, and not
really mine to unload, although
I try, his tyranny still haunts me;
and well, anything new that I
start has to be protected from
the familial bouts of insanity;
and that is why I just want to
pack my bags and get out of
here, and be a mother to my
children; but it’s complicated.

(Art my own)

Who Am I?

(Trigger warning: this poem alludes to child abuse)

Who I am
if not a harbinger –
eyes turned to the sky
diligent?

And what defines me
beyond calm in a crisis
action-taking, firmly
responsible?

No bystander here
I will fight injustice
free the wrongfully accused
capable

Driven
driving
fearless
awake

No sleeping
when danger presents
turmoil relentless
nightmares persist

Visions of uprising
and natural disasters
filling my dreams –
I grow weary

I cry, but no one is listening
the bustle outside reflective
of lives being lived
while I cower

Worried that the sky will fall
and I will be too torn
too bruised
to rise to the occasion

That child I coddled
now questioning my motives
that woman I saved
scoffing at my delusion

I am neither saint nor saviour
I am just a woman/child running
from the drunk under the table
still trying to define herself
as anything but his prey.

(Drawing is my own)

Oh, How I Pray

These hovering lows
how does one escape the pull?

Defensiveness a useless tool
I cannot read intentions

I self-animate
a contrived endeavour

Shine reduced
I am humbled
off colour

Grief, on repeat
I want to disappear
like Peter Pan
childlike, armed
with illustrious fantasies

Could this be metamorphosis –

A paralytic calm
a spell-binding ponder
cracking righteousness
till clarity fades the gray

Oh, how I pray it is
the light of love
chiseling a new path

(Inked sketch my own)

Lines

Give me a map
and I will trace the lines
of where I have been

A timeline
will communicate
my raison d’être

Report cards
demonstrate the depth
of my conformity

Lines on my face
a testament
to personal efforts

Good girls colour in the lines
and I am no different
waxing orange and green

Wishing to create contours
differentiate self
from the compliance

Essence is fluid
and lines flimsy
and substance seeks
exposure and celebration

And try as I might
the orange of my soul
bleeds into blank spaces

and green of my nature
reaches across divisions
and I shall not succumb

to prescribed limits
and I invite you to do the same
colour with me outside the lines.

(Art my own)