A Mirage

Do not apologize
the fault lies not with you

Love, while lauded for its cures,
is not always compensation

for a life of turmoil –
I know you loved her

Watched as you let your dreams slide
heart wringing with your own sorrow

There was just something about her
men lined up to grasp… to make her

What? Theirs? Happy?
It was not to be

she barely possessed herself…
Even in death, I reach for her

try to define the ruse
but her essence is elusive

No, you are not at fault…
for she was never really there.

(For Reena’s Xploration Challenge, prompt the featured image.)

Dreaming Oceans

Ingrained in me
this flight
eye on the future
the periphery
closing in.

Husband urges me
forward, but where
this road leads
I do not know

Connected to self
open, escaping into
the vast expanse
becoming fluid
alive, nurtured

I have been spit out
by life so often,
taught to be taut,
it’s hard to plunge,
let go of the past
and just swim.

(Submitting for my weekly challenge: peripheral. Image my own.)

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
tolerating avoidances

How did language fail us
experts now at skirting
delicate issues, retreating
into solo performances

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

(Marital Dance first appeared here in August, 2017.
I submit it here, edited, for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: dance.
Image my own.)

The Wind and I

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.)

Wasted Time

It’s Monday again –
days passing through
my hands like sand,
no receptacle in which
to catch the granules –
why this sense of urgency?

In high school, I played hooky
wiped away the hours in empty
places, sought answers for
questions I could not articulate,
chased dust while other formulated
dreams – how is this any different?

Am I not just recreating the pattern,
painting over efforts with adult hues,
donning the pretence of self-importance
while occupied with vapid tasks – time
continues to slip by, and what have I
to show for it other than incessant panic?

(Wasted Time was first published February, 2017. I resubmit here for my weekly challenge: the chase. Image my own.)

Love Cycles

Who instigated the abandonment?
It’s an ugly question
manifests pretensions
both sides righteous…
blinded

When the rage subsides
faith will intervene
and acceptance –
a milestone
will springboard

recover, victims’
voices gaining clarity
intent amended
launching into love
once again.

(Love Cycles first appeared here May, 2018. Resubmitting it for Reena’s Xploration Challenge: milestones. Image my own.)