change · culture · current affairs · life · poetry · writing

Reset, Please

We define our lives in acrostics
while nature audits the damage

We bemoan isolation
while Mother exhales

A sigh of hope –
all praying for reset.

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

art · change · creativity · current affairs · dreams · nature · poetry · writing

In Dreams, She Awakens

I dream of a woman
Mother-centred
grey-haired essence
oozing strength –
a vessel, rain focused
decoding political lies.

Leaders are locked
targeting anxiety
selective stances
patriarchal bedmates
ending unsafe

Rioters blow up
martyr consciousness
metamorphosis in throngs
chemicals insignificant
when innocence ignored
temples violated.

What is next?
A future gatekeeper
spouting personal freedom
recalling pleas, charming
ghosts of the past?

We need
discernment,
a woman
Mother-centred
grey-hair wise
leading the way.

(I dreamt of a goddess figure, and attempted to capture her in the pencil drawing featured.  Working on that dream, many things have emerged.  The poem above is just on example.)

 

change · culture · current affairs · life · perspective · poetry · writing

Life Warp

Perusing the hardware store
(shops are limited these days)
nothing to tantalize the imagination
still, I browse, searching for normalcy.

Death loiters in aisle 9
taunts me with visions of life
once vibrant, now stolen
leers at me and I bolt

Grocery store holds more allure
ingredients to stir the appetite
the phantom stalks here too
leaves fingerprints on tin cans

The coffee shop has drinks to go
but the spectre follows, leers
schoolboy smug – I’m not sure
whether to laugh or cry

Unamused by the implications
and yet somehow reassured –
the humour doesn’t escape me –
warped this new norm.

adversity · change · current affairs · mental-health · poetry · writing

A COVID-19 Easter

The clouds donned a veil today
robins foraged on thirsty ground
while a trio of doves swept by

Of course, that’s poetic nonsense –
an attempt at finding beauty
in what is really a grey reality.

Nations hunker in against the threat
and Easter morning arrived
without the fanfare of egg hunts
or children’s raised voices –
certainly not the bonnets, gloves
and scratchy dresses of youth.

But that’s how life is, isn’t it?
Compass set on determination
and before we know it, currents
shift, and we are headed into
the unknown once again.

I donned a grey veil today,
thoughts clouded by chirp-less gloom
could not lift my head to find the sky

This is the nature of hopelessness
to find one’s self confined without
power to alter the course –

This is the struggle before resignation
at worst; acceptance, at best, and
either in time for the next tidal change.

(Too dark, my husband says, can you change the ending?  Make it more hopeful.
It’s implicit in the ending, 
I counter.  Maybe not.  It is how I am feeling after so many days of trying to stay positive.  But here’s what I know:  I have been in this place before – emotionally immobilized and overwhelmed – and I’ve always found my way out.  Writing helps.  Meditation, walks in nature, and a good laugh do too.  I share this here today, so that you know you’re not alone in what you are feeling.  I share it as one who knows that to reflect upon and acknowledge personal turmoil is better than to suppress it.  I share this with the commitment to ride this current wave, openly and honestly, so that when it’s all over we have a true of record of this time in history, from a personal perspective, anyway.  Thanks for reading.)

 

change · disability · mental-health · poetry · psychology · writing

Turning Point

Played host to insecurity –
catered to bullying
undermined by warped
agendas, butchered by
provincial minds –

Retreated, convalesced,
sanitized lost vitality,
believed in phantoms
haunted by compulsions
deflected attempted rescues
ignored counsel to let go.

Shell-shocked
aftermaths
incoherent
self-judgment
inescapable.

Where do I go from here?

Ignore criticism
disarm cruelty
sanctify privacy
detach, discern
redefine boundaries
embrace enlightenment

Focus on caring
be receptive –
choose life.

(Turning Point first appeared here December, 2015, a year and a half into isolation imposed by illness.  I offer an edited version here with the intention of demonstrating the psychological toll of unexpected isolation.  The loss of our routine, life, connections affects us all on many levels. Be kind to self and others.  We all respond to that loss differently.  Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: enlighten.  Image my own.)

adversity · change · poetry · writing

Is This War?

War is hell.  You can’t photograph a flying bullet, but you can capture genuine fear.”

The bomb has dropped
control slips from our grasp

We pray for a parachute
for someone to pull the cord

numbers escalate,
lives plummet

We offer encouragement
isolated voices faltering

moment of impact imminent
the implosion inevitable

impact reverberates
responsibility moot.

(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge:  the quotation, author unknown.  Image my own.)

 

 

change · life · Love · poetry · spirituality

Possibility

What if loyalty purchased this house
and commitment co-signed?
We’d take out a mortgage
based on love – interest only.

What if our foundation was spiritual,
our walls cornerstones of faith?
We’d furnish our home with joy,
leave room for wonder.

Imagine the possibilities
if we dedicated life to service,
if we made union the hub
found a reason for being

The ingredients are all here –
so where’s the hesitation?
Let’s turn off the screens
and tune into what can be.

aging · change · life · ME/ CFS · mental-health · poetry · writing

Rapture

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.