life – Page 40 – One Woman's Quest

Must Have

(Originally posted May of 2014, this poem describes the early days with ME/CFS. This is an edited version of the original.)

Rain pelts against my window,
cheered on by a relentless wind.
Inside, I lie motionless
on my once-yearned-for
now resigned-to
bed.

Target has those things you’re looking for
texts a daughter, pic attached.
Exactly what I’m looking for
but a million miles away
when energy fails me

Instead, I give in to the fingers
of sleep, pulling me in –
blessed unconsciousness,
oblivion.

A door opens below me,
footsteps, a voice:
Do you need anything?
I don’t respond,
too weak for words.
Do I need anything?

The question reverberates
through mind…
emotion…
body…
comes up empty –
what could I need?
too much
nothing

Rain abates, wind subsiding
and a brief ray of sun
brightens the room –
a promise
of spring
of new beginnings,
and I think:
I need clothes

but clothes means shopping
and shopping means energy
and the cycle continues
and still I lay
unmoved

Then you enter,
an offering of tea
and a gentle word
and with renewed momentum,
I shift to make room for you,
and it all comes clear –
You are what I need

You are my must-have.

(Image: heartofwisdom.com)

Letting Go

One hand clutches expectations
while the other clings to walls,
desperately seeking purpose

I have prayed for direction,
a driving need for acceptance,
a longing to be acknowledged

look for openings to procure
success, willing to commit
to hard work, self-sacrifice

have dreamt of a doorway
backlit with brilliant promise,
radiance waiting for release

Am I on the right path, will
this stumbling hope lead me
forward, help me find the way

I could not bear another fall
hands too full to stop the hurt
I am burdened by this quest

Not paying attention to the ground
before me, hit a pot hole, lose my
footing, knees buckle, arms flail

hands release their coveted hold
reflexively reach out, I am down
forced to look up, shame burning

startled to witness a single ray –
a beacon of light in the darkness,
signalling a turn in the road ahead

I pick myself up, hands smarting,
feel the openness of heart and mind
renewed inspiration guiding me

(Image: jackeavesart.deviantart.com)

Is Progress This?

Is this progress,
this decision to uproot,
caste possessions aside,
free ourselves of ties?

Can his dependency,
my dependency, endure
the transition, released
from former justifications?

We are companions
embarking on adventure,
companions retiring past
lies, redefining possibility

or is this more of the same,
artfully camouflaged –
a continuance of flight
from tyrannical origins?

The paths behind are jagged,
wrought with rocks and crevices
and scarred riddles, and yet,
have we not survived, thrived?

The road ahead is expansive
our home an ever-changing
landscape as wide as a continent
our minds eager to absorb…

this is progress,
we are unburdened,
free-spirited, submitting
to new tests of truth.

(Image: www.ebookers.com)

Lost Directions

Partnered once with compassion,
believed in the power of human
touch, dedicated myself to caring,
certain I’d found my body of work

time and circumstance intervened
I drifted, lost in an eddy of confusion
my partner and I separated in the fray
but life moves in circular cycles, and

I revisit that work now, wonder if
parts of it are salvageable, viable –
fragments of that former time now
seem so outdated, irrelevant, what

if I let compassion drive, put ego
in the passenger seat, would she
not steer us down one way streets
against the flow of traffic, rattle

my elusive confidence, jeopardize
this vulnerability; I have no trust
in processes, lack the assurance
of youth’s glory, would not survive

the scramble; time and circumstance
have intervened, circular lines bypass
in spirals; we are not meant to go back,
I need to breathe and stop this grasping.

(Image: scorpyorising.blogspot.com)

Flawed

Why do I try to please
those whose motivation
is only self-serving, material
gain more important than
intrinsic rewards?

How is that I’ve tied
myself to the downtrodden,
dependent upon the nay-sayers –
those lacking imagination
incapable of celebration

settling for the mundane,
as if choices are limited?
I want to embrace each day,
dignify each moment,
regale the glory

life is miracles
and mystery, passages
and opportunity; and I yearn
to break through the walls
of limitation and rejoice

yet I am subjected
to the whims of others,
passion overridden by
disappointment, convinced
I am never enough.

(Image from pinterest)

Missing

Have you seen her –
the child we lost,
the one who lost herself?

born to a sister
breasts not yet ripe
for motherhood’s call

a passenger
on a perilous ride,
sweetness eclipsed

by a cacophony
of raised voices
the wails of women

helplessly trapped
a smothering drama;
how easily she escaped

slipped from our clutches
found comfort in the streets
preferred coldness of strangers

to the raging fires at home;
lost her to the lure of parties,
an elixir for the empty places,

found her once amongst
the debris of discarded needles
and the haze of sexual reek

the golden halo of youth
now matted clumps of shame
her beauty sunken in shadows

we’d taught her well, it seems –
the art of submission, how to
betray the self, embrace defeat

tried to pick her up, create
a milieu of normalcy, establish
homelike roots, but shams

do not last and she ran again
the echo of her absence a hole
ringing in our hearts, we are

guilt-ridden, apologetic, fear
the power of our inadequacy;
try to forget, justify, cringe

for the child we lost,
the one that got away,
the one that lost herself.

(Image: alwayslonliness.blogspot.com)

No Words

In light of the recent tragedies in the world…

One Woman's Quest

I have no words
that will change your plight.

I cannot undo the past
nor change the course of your life.

I am powerless to rescue,
fix, or uplift you in your time of need.

Please know that I see you,
know that in my heart I weep.

Know that while I empathize
I can never fully understand your pain.

There is no judgment here,
only heartfelt compassion.

When I reach out a hand to you,
wordlessly, it is out of respect.

I believe in you.
I believe in your strength and your courage.

In my silence, know that I bear witness
to the potential that lies within and before you.

I believe in the power of your own love to overcome.
There are no words to define what is possible in life.

(Image: imgarcade.com)

View original post

Young Woman, I See

Young woman, I see your pain
remember a time when I too
struggled for autonomy, purpose

Wish that I could reach across
the span of generations, mirror
the beauty that I see, release

the tangle of deception that binds
you, facilitate your potential, help
advance your journey, lift you

beyond the clutter and noise
and deliver you to freedom, but
your book has not been written

and the chapters need to unfold
as they will, and I am no deity
who sees with clarity the path

you must choose, the destiny
that calls you: trust that life
is educational, and you bear

the resources to see your way
through, celebrate your hunger
and rejoice in your triumphs

I will watch with nostalgia
and the pride of recognition,
for your giftedness is real

your optimism a worthy tool,
and I know you will succeed;
have faith in your tomorrows

for you were born to shine
and pages of your memoir
await experience’s depths.

(Image: digitalsynopsis.com)

A Wedding Blessing

(I penned the following poem on the occasion of my son and daughter-in law’s recent wedding celebration. To read more about the ceremony, visit : “Blessing of Interracial Union” )

A son is sweetness and strength and mystery;
here is my son – a gentle soul, kind-hearted
and generous – wasn’t he just a boy, only four
asking his father for work so he could buy me
a pair of earrings: Suns, he said, like you, Mom.

How did that boy, once so caring that he’d save
his treats to share with older sisters, sisters
who would turn around and snub him – he
never seemed to care, accepted it with a shrug
tried again – how is it he is now a man, married?

Always the loyal friend, is he, with an ear for
the downtrodden, offering a hand; I’ve watched
him struggle for independence, study hard,
labour tirelessly, he is a man of vision, a man
with a heart big enough to hold all his dreams.

I want it all, he once told me, eyes focused
on a future only he could see – I read joy
in his countenance, felt pride swelling, knew
this day would come, knew the moment he
first spoke the name Warsan he’d found love.

Warsan, truly good news, precious as the sunrise
her spirit bright, her smile contagious, she is
brilliance, and thoughtfulness, and I could not
have chosen better: a child I can love as my own
a woman our family embraces with open arms

What wisdom can I offer these two, joined
together in love, driven by a commitment
to one another, to family, to shared vision?
Be your best selves, I want to say, approach
anger with tenderness, and pain with warmth

Hold fast to one another in a world that will
challenge you, and know that I will be there
behind you, a rock to your storm, and that
others who have gathered here will do the same
And know, above all, that we celebrate you

Marriage is a vessel, a beginning, an opportunity
It is a bowl in which to place your dreams and hopes
it is a coming together of values, histories, a blending
Let it always be your soft place to land – today
is a new beginning; may this blessing continue.

Glue

Glue, she mutters, massive locks
of blonde hair, piled atop her head
mysteriously held in place despite
the breeziness of her top-down sports.

Not even the wind can undo her,
I marvel at the glint of gold
at her neck, the sparkle of a rock
as she waves, free-wheeling by

What does this woman know that
I don’t; how has she kept it all
together – the years refusing to
drag her down, always riding high?

Glue, echoes the young mother,
from the doorway of her two-story
mansion, children running amuck,
her life, like her bright red sweater

ostentatious, showy – no amount
of material possessions, no career
or besotted husband can blot out
the turmoil churning within.

Glue? I question the dubious advice;
caught off guard by the bluntness,
unprepared to accept guidance
from those I’ve judged so harshly.

What can these women, so far
removed my disabled existence,
know of my plight, understand
about my needs – my failings?

Glue, mumbles a forlorn figure
once a mighty director, a mentor
a man who saved me from myself
his shadow self weak and distraught

Down and out, proclaims the mother,
shaking her head in disapproval,
Sold out, quips the blonde snapping
her bejeweled fingers; I am stunned

had not anticipated such a source
of strength to have fallen so deeply –
disillusioned are we both, broken
by heartlessness, lost in apathy.

Glue, I’ll run it by my doctor, maybe
there is something to it – can’t be
worse than the molasses coursing
through my veins – is adhesive

enough to bond together fragments
cease the rattling of this mind –
give me the backbone to recognize
myself in all and apply forgiveness?

(Ever in pursuit of new understanding of my dreams, this poem is a companion to the change of perspective piece written on One Woman’s Quest II.)