A landmark in my life, the river follows
ages, and eras: seasons measured by her flow
She acknowledges changes, bears the winter
regally, swells with confidence as Spring rains
Will walk beside me in sunnier times, and
hold my secrets as Autumn catches us in her flames
She holds my heart, my faith, always knows
and at the end of the day, oh how she glows.
(Originally posted on One Woman’s Quest II, March 2019. Image my own)
No big box here
our shops line up
in historic rows
Our fragance
eau-de-ferme
earthen fresh
Our spires reminders
that values are simple
and life blessed.
(Photo mine)
I attempt to predict
but the future is blank
Snapshots only portray
the past, fragmented
Sunsets might suggest,
birds leak probabilities
But I want to peek
behind the final curtain
Cut through the noise
of popular currents
Life is two-faced
deception paired
And row as I might
fighting the flow
Manna follows its own rhythm
nips at my fears, like a tail wind
Nothing in it but to breathe
Lighten this intense need to know
(Image my own)
Mother said: “Look after your sister!”
What she meant was: Take this burden
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 much more responsible, so take care
of my consequences.
So I ran away to build my own life:
met a man and married, bought a house,
had children, and dreamed of a future
that would erase the past… but
Husband said: “If you really loved me,
you’d lose weight, be less effusive, 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.
What I meant was: I am a real person
with needs of my own, and despite my faults
or limitations, I deserve better.
(This is an edited version of an older poem by the same name, December 2018. Image my own)
Moody, these December skies
brooding chill interrupted
by sun’s sudden emergence
To hibernate, or brace
the wind; stiffen protectively
or inhale invigoration
Caution guides my steps
intimate with wintry passages
acknowledging that I am December…
(Image my own)
My to-do lists have grown appendages
are teaming up in a huddle
plotting their next play
Wait a minute, Guys! I plead
the afternoon sun has caught me
at just the right angle,
and my chair,
with a mind of its own,
is reclining…
Can’t we save the game day antics
for another time…
(Image my own)
The scenery outside my window
is passing by too fast, and
I’m facing backwards, waves
of nausea disrupting the view
I focus on emotion, animated,
try to discern its origin, realize
it is misplaced; I am disoriented
laugh at the enormity of my blunder.
Girls are lucky:
just need to find the right man –
looked after for life.
Advice from a teenaged brother.
Right! I yell back,
fifty years later.
It was all a vacation –
raising the children on my own
looking for God in the midst of chaos
partners with wandering eyes
or absent…always absent…
still waiting for that “looking after”
And how did you make out, Dear Brother?
Oh, that’s right…married…
woman with a good job
willing to let you putter in the background
Guess we were both misled.
(No Idea! first appeared here November 2020. Image my own.)
This body fortress
stories untold, locked in cells
I am brick by brick
self-made, deluded – haunted
by expectation’s ruins
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Rear-ended
by proverbial truck
Unexpectedly, I claim
denying accountability
Sure, I took chances
crossed the line
Rebelliously ignored
limits, road signs
Driven by compassion
open-doored willingness
Saw the danger too late
swerving only mitigated damage
Humiliated by the impact
reckless ego smarting.
(image my own)
One Woman's Quest 