My iced tea declares
that risk-taking equates
with freedom, and I cheer
at the synchronicity of a sign –
like manna from heaven –
that empowers my journey,
confirms the righteousness
of present life choices
a sentiment struck down
by the absurdity of
assembly-line bottlers
stamping encouragement
on bottle caps,
sealed and packaged
for mass consumption –
a blatant attempt to capture
the magic of a message in a bottle.
How do we recognize truth
in what is reflected back to us
especially when intrinsic knowing
has been domesticated out of us –
servility replacing preservation?
We are drawn by an insatiable
thirst to drink from the well
of human connections, require
acknowledgment, appreciation,
cannot bear to conceive of a life
of loneliness – we are social,
travel in packs, affectionate
souls conditioned to co-habitate,
habits instructing outcomes –
would be lost without mirrors.
Attending awards ceremonies
calls for muzzled comportment,
fail to appreciate the adulation
of one over many, tend to believe
these things are tainted, overblown
but this is just the ramblings of
a self-defacing personality, opinions
unacceptable in most circles, and
certainly amongst those whose scoff
at such remarks, view me as common
those who sniff at the asses of the noted
and noteworthy, as if proximity equates
with greatness, ignoring the fact that
success is achieved through hard work
and cooperation, trampling the ‘littles’
in their scramble for accolades –
it’s disparaging – am I alone in feeling
as if I’m watching an out of control
train, headed for derailment, an event
sure to elicit fame – at such a cost?
(The Daily Post prompt is tend. ))
Teach the children to comply,
to learn by rote, to master
the art of performance
encourage them to control
the chatter, their fidgets
behave like little adults
so as adults they may
struggle for authenticity
confuse society with audience
forgo instincts for crowd
pleasing responses – wonder
at the innocence of children.
Tenacious are we,
will not be derailed
by rock-hard inflexibility
nor disintegrating foundations
we endure, require little
in the way of adulation
or support, self-sufficient
warriors, timeless
we adhere to a call
of evolution, indestructible,
sustained by a productivity
and a steadfast will.
(Inspired by this photo taken at Coon’s Bluff, Tonto National Forest, Arizona.)
We are guardians,
caregivers charged
with ensuring a future
innocence cradled
in our arms, hope,
like an infant, trusting
our choices, embracing
our decisions; let us fill
our hearts with promise
set our minds to forging
a path worthy of the lives,
not yet weaned, that follow.
Have opted for a minimalist existence –
efficiency dependent on accessibility –
still suffering the effects of disease, age.
Used to dwell in the sarcasm of fixed roots,
keep-up-with-the-status-quo, thought that
swapping furniture equated with renewal
Now the only fitting-in we do relates to
rig size and whether or not the next stop
on the road can accommodate our home
Have sold off the real estate, motivated
by simplicity; seek vistas that restore
our souls, preferably with a water view.
We are comfortable marrieds, adapting
new perspectives, easing out of the shell –
shock of former agendas, rat-race lives.
As mothers, who are concerned,
as sons, who are seeking guidance,
as daughters, for whom our fears mount?
I don’t have the answers, maybe
not even the beginning of a response,
but I’m trying to get through to some level
of sensibility, need to know what it takes
to instill respect, to restore reverence for
all that in is feminine; seems we are numbed
lulled into complacency, brainwashed by
a consumer-driven machine that pumps
out sexuality as entertainment, infiltrates
our collective psyche, equates exploitation
with attainment, debasement with reward;
are we so desensitized as to not recognize
that merely turning off the television, or
ignoring the images in the check out line
still amounts to complicity; what amount
of surgical intervention is required to
eradicate this societal disease; restore
compassion and caring to our culture?
(This poem, inspired by a series of dreams, responds to the The Daily Post prompt: conversation.)
Be compassionate when leading,
encourage community,
promote vision,
invite discussion
remember that pleasing
is not always possible
and that balance
calls for give and take
that needs are real
and genuine emotion
in times of personal grief
can be a catalyst for others
beware hidden agendas
when conducting business;
help young people find
their own secret gardens
never try to be all things
for all people, instead
lend an ear, a shoulder,
a hug – be a facilitator
all is doable, when ego
is willing to sidestep accolades
in favour of a shared responsiblity
and service to the whole.
They set up classrooms in malls,
call them “alternative”, cater to
those who have fallen through
proverbial cracks, teens unfit
for institutional learning…
I was wayward once, could not
value education while teenage
angst pushed me overboard –
home life too quixotic for
reasonable expectations of
comportment …
My heart reaches out
to those displaced, for whom
common curriculum does not gel –
I long to meet with them on concrete
benches, over cups of Tim Horton’s
lending a sympathetic ear…
School is not the defining moment
the last stop before our final destination;
it is a stepping stone, one of many paths
that lead to discovery, to definition,
troubled souls crave soothing…
maybe, if I could light a torch
for just one child, build a bridge
of hope, the girl in me would be
quieted, reassured, healed –
validation ensuring a future for all.
(Image: classroom.synonym.com)
One Woman's Quest 