Urgency and age, well acquainted
Is it Celestine, this draw
or a fateful sense of lacking?
Time ticks a cringeworthy rhythm
insists I pay attention – Fine!
say I, lingering over a defiant tea
Passive is my denial
aggressive is the fear
Tomorrow, I tell myself.
( Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
If I measure progress
by “used-to’s”
illness and age win
I used to play tennis
speed and muscle
ease of ambition
This place, the nexus
of how life has changed,
teaches me appreciation
Frost in my veins
permanent, warmth
of memories aglow.
(Image my own.
Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)
Wary of ruts –
lies I tell myself
sprouting roots,
impending progress.
Yet, without roots
how am I defined?
Does impermanence
not also leave a stain?
The ground shifts
beneath me
and I dance
imperfectly
inventing a rhythm
that defies ruts,
mocks impermanence
and eludes definition.
(Dancing first appeared here in May, 2018. Image my own.)
Whose Earth is this?
ask the trees reaching
to kiss mountainous sky.
Who cares for her?
ask the creatures all,
grateful for her bounty.
Machines rumble
forests fall – a stand
for progress answers none.
(Image my own.)
Followed the wind –
a child without boundaries –
Experience, especially hardship
clipped those wings
Lost faith in the wind,
pushed against her flow
Till nothing was left of me
fight diminished by final blow
The wind, though, she persisted
picked up my diminished spirit
tossed me in her whimsical way
rekindled the child.
(Image my own.)
Mom said sh’e leaving Dad
can’t take it anymore
we move.
Relocate. Reset.
Bullying at school out of control
can’t take it anymore
we move.
Relocate. Reset.
Truancy a problem
then the rape
school says I have to go.
Relocate. Reset.
Sister move back home
one unhinged, the other battered
Moms says it’d be better if I leave.
Relocate. Reset.
Shuffle boxes from relationship
to relationship, change careers
like hairstyles – is this boredom?
Relocate. Reset.
Never did grow roots
too good at packing up
trouble comes…
Relocate. Reset.
Tell you more, but we’re about
to pull out, the road is calling…
you know how it goes…
(Relocate. Reset. first appeared here in December, 2017. I am submitting it here, edited, for my weekly challenge: I’m bored. All welcome to join in. Image my own.)
I try to scrape history from stone
reassemble words on vellum –
bravado pretending release
Pick my mentors from amongst
the enlightened, willing osmosis –
ego avoiding blood: grit of change
(Art my own)
Had a kinship once
with gentleness
and acceptance
confidence, too
Till independence
made me tough
a fortress against
imagined battles
Married myself
to distance
disengaged
from fluidity
Age necessitates shift
those barriers of old
they’re just cons
Readopting tenderness
re-friending acceptance
confidence with humour.
(My challenge this week is con/ scams/ catfish. Image my own.)
One tree –
a solo sentinel –
beckons
Take comfort,
says she,
beneath my boughs
But I am hungry
balk at simplicity
silence adverse
Till fate arrests me
legs no longer fleeing
the great Walnut my saviour.
(Image my own)
Erasing the past –
collecting ash with chopsticks –
infertile practice
embrace, learn, and recreate
we are clay – artist’s magic.
