culture – Page 23 – One Woman's Quest

We Are Voyageurs, All

(Note: This is an edited version of the poem Self-Delusion, originally written in May of 2014. The imagery was inspired by a dream of a wagon traversing the prairies carrying the individuals described.)

Obsessed, she presses onward,
feet digging in, body sweat
blackened by relentless dust
swirling in the prairie heat;
she is fatherless, widowed –
charged with the command
of horses, and everything,
and everyone – she is a pioneer
bent on delivering her cargo
to a promised land.

Wounded, a body lies
curled, shamed –
only straw for a mat –
teeth clenched in pain
determination overriding
suffering – feigns sleep,
braces against jolts,
stifles gasps – bravery
a necessity – longs for
a destination, an end
to the bleeding.

Laughter bubbles up
between bouts of fear
and boredom – children
bear the bumps, try
to be good, but the ride
is never-ending –
youthful spirits yearn
for cool waters to splash in,
ache for games of hopscotch –
cannot control the spontaneous
bursts of adventure – bear no
sense of responsiblity, trust
unwittingly in the journey.

A young man has visions,
sees beyond the confines
of wagon walls – senses
purpose, smells gold,
passion raging –
a fighting soul,
willing to strive,
fearless – rails
against the trappings
of obligation, held
captive by elders –
is overlooked.

The faithful seek inspiration,
all-believing, hopeful,
prayerful – caught in a web,
pleading, asking, forgiving,
accepting and wondering –
What can I give of myself?
What does God want?
Am I not good enough?
How have we sinned?
Are we being punished?
Must we bear this cross
to be received in Heaven?
Help me, they pray
to be more worthy,
more deserving,
when Judgment Day comes.

A mother worries,
cares, hopes for the best,
caters to all – in many ways
still a child herself – bears
each experience with borrowed
strength, selflessly focused –
drawing, drawing
from a well seldom replenished –
tired, oh so tired
she carries on.

Frail, the aged are wise
have endured adversity
surrendered to the knocks
know that in time all things pass
guard their wisdom with silence
acknowledge the value
in each journey
in each interpretation
understand that delusion
is commonplace and
destination is temporary –
recognize the power of now;
are patient and accepting
that life is as it is.

Marital Dance

We converse in actions,
words inaccessible –
have not been schooled
in dialogues for two.

His clutter spreads,
pronounce’s a kingly
presence, commands
attention, oppresses.

I clean with insistence,
shuffle papers, wipe up
crumbs, assert my right
to co-exist, belittle him.

Once we studied dance;
he learning to lead, I
to follow signals – the art
is lost on us now, our steps

more interference, blocking
an inconvenience, not
a strategy, we are rhythmless
avoidance more tolerable

than the effort it takes to tango.
How did language fail us?
experts now at skirting
delicate issues, retreat before

we speak, pray time will serve
absolve the problem, but only
distance grows in silent cracks
and we converse in actions.

(Image: source unknown)

A Wounded Pair

Depression desires a move –
maybe east, where the sun rises
and views are more picturesque

but espoused to Disability ensures
limitations – no multi-level dwelling
just a single story, easy access home

Surely, there is a place, where both
tales can co-exist, and Depression’s
suppressed flamboyance can soar

and Disability’s plentiful talent
can escape the darkened confines
of four dimly lit walls, be witnessed

She is actress and he is victim, and
a fresh start is required – ownership
that’s less costly – discovery a possibility

gorgeous, inebriating abundance –
a foundation of hope – no more
lowering themselves to circumstance

Yet, both are married to responsibility,
clutch it with terror, personal cravings
a menace – store their dreams in boxes

basement buried – the family home
a weighty treasure – ignore the niggling
call to downsize – prefer to embrace

their fateful fortunes with loyalty –
a wounded pair, reluctant to let go
fear an insurmountable barricade.
(Image: skydancingblog.com)

Contemplating Confinement

Is this clawing essential?
Are we creating a practical life,
a persuasive existence;
or are we restrained by judgments?

Do we value joint holdings,
going places – are we two wheels
pulling this oversized work in progress?

Is there space for support,
to land, and register once
on board – a must-have meeting
of the minds? Or are we cramped,
piece by piece, to each their own –
equals, wrestling with what’s important?

Can I conceive – while pleading my case –
whose rights decide, how we preserve
our assets? Risky when both charges
are unstable: a study in adaptability

a hard trial – requires a negotiation tool
for surfacing needs, to lift us from
our limitations, help us confront
mirrored images, perceptions
battling for imperatives.

Eventually, our laboured intentions
will birth proof of the worthiness
of this journey, that storing family
differences and moving precariously
forward will succeed, if we are committed,
flexible, and willing to co-create.

(Image: aboutyourrelationship.wordpress.com)

Unbridled

Tender as a fledgling, angelic
curls confrontational, she bears
emotions with courage, femininity
unkempt, pridefully engages
creatures – pests to most – believes

in messengers, blessed with manna,
heaven-sent; draws her strength
from within, a daring soul, plunges
deep, pursues wholeness – cherished
vulnerability, unpolished, loyal

mimics nature, her innocence persuasive,
fear and protectiveness retreat, helpless
in face of the adventures that call to her;
she is submerged, infiltrating enchantment,
unruly – does not measure progress by scars

unaware of wounding, responds only
to the magical sense of play – a limbo –
instinctively trusting, sweet, views the
world from perches treetop high, wills
herself to fly with dragonfly wings.

In time, innocence will be intercepted
by practicality: Fate’s swift hand cutting
her down, she will be victim, react to
adversity, learn to mother, the wildness
of her youth chiseled by expectations

She will learn to wade through swamps,
acknowledge pain and her own inadequacy,
overcome and face life anew, the memory
of a freer time, a more wily self, fleeting –
the child in her more myth than memory.

(Photo from Pinterest, attributed to:
Joanne Quirante Escober)

Family Trappings

Mother, twice married,
conveys reluctance,
exaggerates fear –
charted history
obstacles a given.

Father’s outing
perpetuates disconnection
anxiety replacing
communication
group wishes null

Sister desires crack –
living spectacle –
addiction barrier
to forgotten
privilege

Husband’s end plan
race transmissions –
dispossessed of
direction –
a dreamer

Fodder for gossip –
elaborate gong show –
we are lost navigators
memories relative
routes amusing

I visit nostalgia –
repetitive missives –
host allowances
hope for justice
a transfer point.

Retirement

Sought-out careers stagnant
communication with colleagues
soaked with commitments –
underlying imposed courtesy

we are doubly dependent –
mutual caregivers supporting
water treading, our authority
drowning in preset obligations

Past dwellings, connections
sopped with history, hold on –
leftover dregs, stale-dated –
their validity disappearing,

We are overcoming, debriefing,
navigating release, minimilizing
plan to alter direction, trade
accommodations, rest willingly

have boarded sanctity – a timely
cubicle of release, slotting an exit,
having transformed belonging –
are wrung out seeking drier ground.

Specimens

Dressed in our finest personas
we submit to public scrutiny,
polish our performances, risk
criticism to achieve the prize

Practice behind the scenes
preparing lists and scripts,
questioning qualifications,
comparisons deflating egos

Yet we succumb to pressure
step into the spotlight, react
emotions and insecurities
demolishing golden intentions

We scramble for our lines,
to maintain integrity, curse
our folly, our vulnerability
slaves to external editors

Competition eradicates value
of black and white resumes
survival of the fittest presides
we race to stay in the running

traces of authenticity discarded
like unwanted footage, spliced
realities catering to contrived
standards: a social experiment.

(Image: http://www.pinterest.com)

Can’t Help But Wonder

What chief is this,
whose repetitive adolescent antics
labour over inconsequential details
whilst, as novice, he plies elimination
strategies, slashing former goals;
this non-monk of a man, inciting
global waves of dissention, padding
his ego with kin, lining up officials
disinclined to disrupt his pillage?

What nation is this
who believes social standing
equates with compassion,
who overlooks subterfuge,
projects ideals into commerce,
trusts debits and credits to
a host, whose obese pockets
are lined with the sweat of others
sacrificed for golden coffers?

What consequences lie
beyond the current distractions,
when tools of manipulation are
revealed and citizens, mired in the
waste of executive orders, rise
against oppression, upstanders
demanding a difference that
promotes, indeed ignites, a more
palatable future for all?

(Image: www.sandiegouniontribune.com)