Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
The rumble of men’s voices
grunting shifts beneath
heavy wooden furnishings
The transition is underway
Broom and cloth at hand
I hover out of sight
Will erase each vestige of us
bless this passage, prepare
to welcome the new.
(Moving day! Prewritten for Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: transition. Image mine.
We will not have access to the internet for a few days. I hope to be back on the weekend.)
Brazen with whiteness
four toads
exerted presence
cuffed and killed a man
“I can’t breathe.”
On the front lawn
of America
stripped of empathy
the leader knelt
Not in prayer –
reverence burns his lips –
he knelt with authority
or his version, venomous
Three looked on
ignored pleas
gloated in the horror
of life’s final gasp
Humanity’s blood
now cold
unleashing a scream
a primal, reptilian rage
The offspring
of oppression
and hate
uncoiling
Like snakes
nest disturbed
rising against injustice
burning down the walls
As The Man weaves
his tale of dissonance
casting lines of division
few listen..
Black Lives Matter
drowns the rhetoric
the breakthrough is complete
we can no longer look away.
(For George Floyd and all the others murdered senselessly at the hands of those commissioned to protect. Submitted to Reena’s Exploration challenge: breakthrough. Image my own.)
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.
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.)
Earth plies her paintbrush
under heavy cloud cover
sun perseveres
wind carries a secret tune –
notes of change on horizon.
(Image my own)
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.
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.)
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.)
“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.)
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.
