Light fades, as do I –
with age comes redundancy,
moving with shadows,
safety in darkness –
wisdom in obscurity.
Category: life
Ode To The Road
A kettle over boiled
will put him in a snit
Leaving a light on,
a sin I often commit.
He forgets the garbage
leaves it in public sight
likes clutter around him
causes me such fright.
Annoyances are doubled
when living in tiny space
yet never will they overtake
the magic of this chase…
For everyday is adventure
when life is on the road
imagine all the memories
and stories yet to be told.
Colouring
Remember when lines meant challenge
and colouring was not confined to
parameters, but an invitation
to explore, and days spent
contemplating invited
song, and nothing
really mattered
except the
moment?
There is a place
balanced between
the bustle of doing and
the edge of non-existence
where fantasy beckons,
where aged minds, content
with past accomplishments
come to rest, to ponder –
who once again recognize
that lines hold no significance,
that colours know no limits,
that music uplifts the mind,
and that memories are places of
exploration, and the moment
is all we ever have.
Tangled
Father told me I had no problems –
didn’t even know what problems were,
so I tucked away grief, pretended,
mastered the art of suppression –
what did I matter, after all?
Failed to grasp the underlying message –
ignored the extent of his personal pain,
translated indifference into selfish agendas,
set up walls to protect myself, against him,
projecting rejection onto others.
Too late now, I understand, hurt for the
distance created by misunderstandings,
recognize with deep sorrow that our timing
was out of rhythm – society unable to fathom
the secrets that we held – unnecessary burdens
Wonder if I will ever unravel the deceit,
unwrap the loss of self, the shame, recover
a sense of self-worth that allows for acceptance
of problems without self-reproach, or guilt;
will gain the capacity for far-reaching forgiveness.
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 others 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?
Parental Passage
Carefully we construct
security for offspring,
add luxuries to entertain,
accommodate growth
with additions, play host
to revolving-door friends.
And yet, we are graded
on performance – met
or unmet expectations –
help up against a stack
of other super parents –
silhouettes of perfection.
Still, we celebrate growing
aspirations, sprouting family,
ignore the slanders, and ease
into age with a tad of kook,
or wild inappropriateness –
all expressions of our love.
Message In A Bottle
My iced tea declares
that risk-taking equates
with freedom, and I cheer
at the synchronicity of a sign –
like manna from heaven –
that empowers my journey,
confirms the righteousness
of present life choices
a sentiment struck down
by the absurdity of
assembly-line bottlers
stamping encouragement
on bottle caps,
sealed and packaged
for mass consumption –
a blatant attempt to capture
the magic of a message in a bottle.
Mountain
I navigate sharp twists,
confront rough trails,
steep slopes, swoon
at dizzying heights,
feel my frailty –
this path is for rugged,
mountain-born,
those accustomed
to the sheer immutable
force of  rock –
and yet, my lens
tells a different tale –
speaks of shadows
shifting, witnesses
mutations of colour
describes a giant
whose facade reflects
the day’s passing light,
demonstrates compassion
in earth’s stillness.
Reflections
How do we recognize truth
in what is reflected back to us
especially when intrinsic knowing
has been domesticated out of us –
servility replacing preservation?
We are drawn by an insatiable
thirst to drink from the well
of human connections, require
acknowledgment, appreciation,
cannot bear to conceive of a life
of loneliness – we are social,
travel in packs, affectionate
souls conditioned to co-habitate,
habits instructing outcomes –
would be lost without mirrors.
Lachrymose
A dear soul slipped from life’s grasp this week, leaving a hole in many hearts. Diana’s words, here, say so much more than I could have, still raw with grief.
so frail now
your fingertips in mine
supported gently
parchment paper skin
venous rivers slow, tepid within
..
as the sand slowly sifts
i squeeze
i try to halt the final grains, yet
this maudlin hourglass only drains
to somber clock tick
sentry gated soldiered seconds fall
the war is over
all is lost
that is all
..
a last dawn
this last day
as curtains part
your light slips away
One Woman's Quest 