I’ve lived the fog of distance –
life’s highway a series of hills
destination without promise
Have learned that acceptance gains perspective,
that climates change, and hope sustains,
and that in stillness dreams renew.
Now I travel quieter paths, appreciate
space, have surrendered to a slower pace –
certain that this too will change.
(image my own)
Expectations artificial
living in an urban jungle
longing for nature’s calm –
time moves too swiftly
barely register
let alone participate
We are guests in our own
expectation’s dysfunction
licensed for depression
a smorgasbord for abuse
intentions mislaid,
disappointment unavoidable
The ego pretends to be open
but she’s an actress off cue
playing out a sentence –
condemned to basics
praying to escape
this dystopian malfunction.
(Image my own)
It’s like aiming for the ideal
and settling for second best
Setting your life up for success
then sabotaging the outcome
It’s like committing to a dream
with blinders on – threats ignored
I know where I want to be
have tasted the serenity
steeped in beauty
and lived with peace
Yet the noise continues
the daily bustle,
the inevitable stench
my soul being griddled
It’s what I’ve known, isn’t it?
sanctity at a price –
the absolute terror
of selling out for peace of mind
I will plant gardens here
at the edge of insanity
and outline my future
denial at my side.
(Art my own)
Upgrading –
setting new standards
learning anew
Kin/ heritage
pursues me –
influence
and legacy
Timid concerning
the unspoken
the understated
Seduction courts
a response –
I am flush with possibility
basking in attention
But God is calling me home –
reminds me of mortality
humbles me in situ
I am already engaged
passion in the moment
dalliances redundant
(Self portrait created blind with acrylic paint and palette knife)
Weighed down by complications –
you see, the amount of baggage
I carry surpasses my storage
capacity; and despite attempts
to simplify, paranoia tends to
my bathroom routines, and
no amount of persuasion can
appease her suspicions; and
the majority of my contents
have been accumulated by
my father’s business, and not
really mine to unload, although
I try, his tyranny still haunts me;
and well, anything new that I
start has to be protected from
the familial bouts of insanity;
and that is why I just want to
pack my bags and get out of
here, and be a mother to my
children; but it’s complicated.
(Art my own)
Odd, this gift of solitude. Perched canal side, I affirm my connection to the earth, and offer thanks. Late afternoon sun casts a glow on the foliage across the way, lighting up the mirror-still water. Vibrant reflections.
Two winters ago, I fought to breathe as temperatures fell below zero. Impassible walkways trapped me indoors. Depression fought for possession. Hope struggles in imposed isolation.
“There are no absolutes in life,” a professor once told me, and I think of that now –
how just when it feels as if one sentence has been handed down, sealed, an opening appears. I am fortunate, savour the moment.
Heron’s watchful stride
invites reflection, respect –
Winter’s solitude.
(Image my own.)
She’s papering the walls
pondering former rooms
unmarked by her presence
Patterns alternate,
she thinks
then prays
will harmonize
She doesn’t need much –
a forever mantra —
a bed, a chair for reading…
Contentment, she tells herself,
the sufficiency of simplicity –
A side table, a lamp
a few drawers
A well-practiced diminishment
When did invisibility become her norm?
Sewing herself into the fabric of life
Always adapting to the flow
A stab of anger, or is it sorrow
These four walls her final stop
If she is to make a statement
raise her voice against conformity
the time is now
A slash of red, she decides
will rattle the monotony
render her relevant
At least this once.
(Sketch my own)
“Are you happy?”
The question hits
my gut,
slingshots
down the hall
deadends
at optimism
“Of course,” I respond.
What else can I say…
Sure life needs tweaking…
I am learning to be better…
I can make this work…
Why? What do see?
Thoughts unspoken
but the bell has been rung…
(I wrote this poem in 2020, in response to a prompt. It was inspired by an encounter with an old flame, whose question caught me off guard. I was not, in fact, happy at the time – my then marriage about to crumble. The thing is, this event happened almost 30 years ago, and yet remains in my mind. Funny how the psyche holds onto things. Image my own.)
Was it neglect
that rendered us
so useless?
joints collapsing,
minds scattering
movement minimal…
That which we no longer tend to
loses lustre – less profit to reap
When we store our dreams in corners –
time usurping promises,
visions asleep –
the fallout is too steep
Cherishment is what is needed
for self, for hopes, for all life.
(Image my own)
There are shores that remain
ever-etched upon my heart –
emotional tides that tug
and carry me, currents
of past revelations –
I remember drowning
in the swells of loneliness
always the outsider, the grains
of this sentimentality
still shredding my adult soul.
(Borrowed from my former Twitter page. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 