Category: life

Closed Off

I search for sustenance
with indifference –
have difficulty navigating
the aisles of available options.

Divorced from former dreams,
I hunger for renewed inspiration,
encounter only loss and confusion.

Goddess advises, and I,
ear-closed irritated,
hear only assertions
of inadequacy.

I exit possibility,
have lost the vessel
that once propelled me.

(Linking up to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #70)

End of Day

Sun blazes before it falls,
slashes the day’s sky –
blue guarding against blaze.

Golden grasses absorb
the fire, brazen in their
clay-baked fields.

Branches blacken –
forlorn bristles –
stark against light.

I stand on the precipice,
day’s end beckoning,
taunting, my spirit alive

Will blaze before it falls,
lashing against the heavens
who dare to threaten darkness.

 

Darn Finances

Money –
that vital ingredient –
threatens to rebuke us,
these haphazard habits
equating to negligence.

Investments –
retirement’s foundation –
falter, then plunge,
a mini crisis hitting
too close to home.

Change –
prodded by re-evaluation –
commands control,
scoffs at ideal’s naiveté,
imperfection highlighted.

(Written for dVerse’s quadrille night, hosted by Whimsygizmo, whose prompt is change.  All submitting to Ragtag Community’s, vital; Fandago’s, rebuke; and Manic Mondays 3 Way prompt, imperfection.)

January’s Frost

As Mother counts her last days, and I open my heart to forgiveness, a daughter calls, reaming me out for wrong-doings – January is not cold enough to freeze tempers – family coals burn and shatter, and all we can pray for is metamorphosis.  Soon, I will return to warmer temperatures, attempting to elude this frigid climate, save the scorching for the sun.

Hearts have seasons too –
I lumber through chilled air,
crave a touch of warmth.

(A haibun for dVerse, hosted by Kim tonight.  I am also submitting this for Ragtag Community’s lumber, Fandango’s metamorphosis, and Manic Mondays 3 Way Prompt, shattered.)

Talk

Mother said: “Look after your sister!”
What she meant was: Take these
burdens off my shoulders, I am
no longer able to cope.

Father said: “Do as I say, not as I do!”
What he meant was:  I don’t have
the wherewithal to deal with my own
problems, so don’t bring me yours.

Sister said:  “Be a good auntie!”
What she meant was: I am too
young to be a mother, and you are so
much more responsible, please take on
the consequences of my poor choices.

So I ran away to build my own life.
Met a man and married, bought a house,
had children and hopes and dreams
for a future that would erase the past.

Husband said: “If you really loved me
you’d try harder to lose weight, be less
effusive in public, control your temper,
and be more supportive of my choices.

What he meant was:  I’m going to grind
you so far into the ground and then I’m
going to cheat and cheat and you’ll have
nothing left inside to do anything about it.

And without a word, I left, and
what I meant was: I am a real person
with needs and faults and limitations
and it’s about time I honour me.

Routes

No straight road,
no easy, out of the pod,
solutions – complexity,
it seems, reigns.

I travel circular paths
past ancient structures –
having erected statues
to past wounds – present
walls barely standing.

Unseen forces drive –
societal angst,  perhaps –
know only that life
is possibility, and I
sorrowfully lag.

(Written for Twenty Four’s 50 Word Thursday, with help from the daily prompts of Fandango – easy, and Ragtag Community – pod.  Image supplied by Deb Whittam of Twenty Four.)