Dates soften in the pan –
I stir with preoccupation
fresh-faced excitement
motivating each step.
I measure sugar, oats,
flour, the enormity
of my heart’s capacity
to love these young ones.
Add butter, and mix,
each stroke a hug,
anticipating enjoyment
a sweet connection.
Pat and bake, timer set,
bright eyes and tiny palms
lift upwards with sparkle –
Christmas cheer upon us.
(For Ragtag Community’s prompt: mix. Image from personal collection.)
A morsel of truth
and I am off
like White Rabbit
chasing meaning,
convinced that intellect
is just the tool I need
to decode the mystery –
bruises testament to
holes I’ve climbed out of.
As light in darkness
transforms mundanity, so
too am I salvaged –
revelation turning back
the icy pallor of Winter.
(Tanka borrowed from a previous post on One Woman’s Quest II: Resetting the Dial. I have given the poem a title here. Image from personal collection.)
Pastoral placid,
tonic for the soul – beware
stagnation, partake
in daring, honour spirit’s
longing for the wild; grow wings.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: placid/wild; and for BrewNSpew’s prompt: partake. Image from personal collection.)
I am Earth
Giver of life
aligned with elements
both protect and ravage
all bear scars
this is the process
I am Mother
womb and tomb
be thankful.
(Tuesdays, I borrow a poem from my Twitter account @Vjknutson. Photo from personal collection.)
Flagrant this disregard,
this blatant indifference
I have come before you
broken and desperate
and been received with
loving compassion, openness.
“It was not I who abandoned you” –
the words still echo in my heart.
In shame, I hang head, vow
to prepare my spiritual bowl
to resurrect a prayerful practice
to know once again the light,
the life that fulfills when
self is offered up as instrument.
(Ragtag community has offered the word “flagrant” as prompt today. I have been carrying around scraps of ideas for Reena’s Exploration challenge – featured image. This poem emerged. I do not consider myself affiliated with a specific religious body, but I do consider myself a woman of deep spiritual faith.)
Reach for her
across the abyss
of indifference –
would hold her dear
comfort her sorrows –
empty promises,
I now understand
have abandoned her
countless times
in the name of obligation,
this child that is me.
Memories shift, haze
like grains of sand dispersing –
sentiments heart set.
(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: haze/sand. Image from personal collection.)
Treading water
where barracudas swarm,
inject a drop of kindness
incite a ravenous threat
Quick the decision to bail,
shed contamination,
resulting terror –
shame exposed.
Now tread slough
longing floored
robed in foreboding
trembling in shadows.
(I have made poor choices in my life, which still haunt my dreams. My therapist says to focus on the “quick departure”, honour myself for making the right decision in the moment. Still, guilt lives on. Such is the nature of trauma. It lingers in our psyche. Image from personal collection.)
Novice, a word that negates
experience, knowledge, merit –
capability under suspicion.
I novice myself frequently,
as if vulnerability is a sideline
and humility commands denigration.
A tired and weary state –
yes, this is me, new and willing
to learn, but I am not novice.
So before you judge, adjust
your professional spectacles,
snub my potential, hear this:
Value is immeasurable –
unique contributions
enhance collective offerings.
(Reena’s Exploration challenge this week is based on “The Story of An Hour” which challenges us to examine our life and limitations. I dream over and over again that I have returned to teaching only to find that the years I have put in have been negated by my absence and I have to begin again. Starting over is not a new theme in my life, but my attitude about is finally changing, as represented in the poem. Image from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 