Category: life

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.)

Letting Go is Complicated

This confined life –
carefully construed –

ingrains order,
commands discipline.

I can free myself
from urbanity,
declare adventure
as prerogative, but

how long before
I release the need
for control, unburden
internal restraints

let go, and open
to divine rhythms?

Doubt I possess
the trust required
to live with such
uncertainty.

(Submitted for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday.  Photo is part of the prompt.)

Waiting for Recharge

I alternate between vigorous activity and coma-like crash.  It’s the nature of this disease.  No middle ground, it seems.  Or maybe that’s just the nature of this personality.

We celebrated Christmas early this year.  A Saturday afternoon gathering, and I cooked.  First time in four years.  I felt a certain sense of pride till the last guests left and I turned to face the aftermath.  Now, just  two days later, I am packing up the household and preparing for a four-month excursion.  I think I’ve defined a new breed of crazy:  waiting for a spurt of energy and then frenetically doing until I hit the next wall.

Winter pelts windows,
stirs frenzied need to escape –
waiting for recharge.

(Imelda is hosting in the dVerse pub tonight with the prompt: waiting.  Coincidentally, waiting is also the prompt for Manic Monday’s 3 way challenge.  I have also received inspiration from Ragtag Community:  vigorous, and Fandango: coma.  Tomorrow is load up day and then we hit the road, so not sure how often I’ll be around until we get settled somewhere.)