Purpose –
much coveted
despair-driven –
has returned.
Energy –
motivation
to proceed –
building
Willingness –
once vibrant
now constrained –
resists.
Chasms –
loss created
unparalleled –
require bridges.
Purpose –
discovery born
enthusiastic –
persists.
(Resilience first appeared here in October, 2018. I submit a slightly revised edition here for Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: resilience.)
I grow roses to remember
a beloved grandmother
the dreams of innocence
the blush of summer love
I grow roses to believe
that life has purpose
and time has no end
and love defies boundaries.
I grow roses to understand
that beauty and pain coexist
and life is about cycles
and simple things have great value.
(Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie, prompt: blush. Image from personal collection.)
Dare I confess
the hollowness
of my heart
How emptiness
echoes in its chambers
How lost I feel inside
This is no sanctity
no secure refuge
my withdrawal is a sham
I stand by, observe –
circles entwine, embrace –
recognize the power of love
Practice the words
extend warmth
and retreat, before
connection ignites
convinced as I am
that the vacancy is merited.
(Image from personal collection.)
Can’t take responsibility
for what gets laundered here
my vehicle has no steering wheel
I am merely seeking understanding –
comfort, like support shoes –
and I get flack, indifference
slapping me in the face.
Why did I put myself in this position –
revert back to old ways, think
I was destined for anything
but penniless devotion –
should have been a nun.
(Image from personal collection.)
My faith is goat steady –
surefooted in rocky times –
I keep her within sight,
safely separated.
Store her with potential –
mountain lion persistent –
set them on the other side
of vision – lock myself away.
It’s the tigress in my heart
that unsettles me the most –
certain by her pacing
that she’ll consume me
Tremble at the demands –
self being called to embrace
something higher, deeper –
an assertion of essence.
( “Contemplating Emergence” is the name of the art, that like the poem, found its origins in my dreams.)
What harbinger is this
and why am I not convinced?
Cynicism wants concretes,
feeds complaints,
exaggerates,
retreats
Need to confront
this wall-building,
fight to retain
Spirit’s message –
deescalate fear’s grip.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge#119. Image from personal collection.)
Scarred existence
seeks a patience
born of peace
Cannot find the path
tainted ruts of blood
line a minefield.
(Poem originally appeared on Twitter. Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)
Was that really me
fought for feminine rights,
eleven-years-old
persistent to the win?
And was that me
lied about her age
strapped on work clothes
bore responsibility?
And did you know her
that obstinate teen
who defied tradition
and chased an education?
Where did she go,
a faint memory now,
how life tamed her,
taught her subservience
to bury her light
in the shadow of men’s
dreams, that toil should be
selfless, and love for other.
Listen, and you will hear
her echo, faint but growing,
the sound of a mind burning,
the laughter of a soul on fire.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: Was that really me?, and Eugi’s Weekly prompt: laughter. Image from personal collection.)
Aged and well worn –
history and family
have left their marks –
weakness surfaces.
I tug at the imaginary
unravel essential core –
hearts burdened hide
gilded truths
Uncovering, a collaborative task
housing a trove of potential –
optimism and hope within,
always more room for growth.
(Image from personal collection)
Fragile, this existence –
landings temporaneous,
change commanding
continuation, journey
perpetual – moments
alone offer fulfillment –
treasure each precious one.
(Christmas and a cold have worn me down, so I am withdrawing to rest. I do have a few scheduled posts, and will check in from time to time. Wishing you all peace for the holiday season, and no doubt will be back before the New Year.)
One Woman's Quest 