These barriers –
iced over sentiments
barbed-wire wounds –
How do we reconcile
when questions
resist answers?
What remains
to be solved?
I retreat into misery
Should never have allowed
heart to even hope –
Belle, you torture me so.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Bridging was his MO
caught me post divorce
when needs were slippery
Sapped my spirit
drained my love, then
latched onto new youth –
Most liberating gift
he ever gave me.
(Image from personal collection)
Don’t believe in soulmates
just soul power – the ability
of human yearning to actuate
love’s potential –
Of course, I’m far from a rookie
bear the scars of infatuation’s
fallout, prefer kindness
and respect to romantic fluff.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.  Image my own.)
Heart, craving expression
seeks the aid of paper –
A message with pizzaz
a testament to love
But my pen chokes
on the word itself
refuses the pronouncement
soul balking at the possibility
I toss the note…
…maybe next time.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from my Twitter account @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Strains of Tijuana Brass flood the yard
while father on bended knee tends
his garden, tiers of stone edged rows
encircling a trio of birch trees.
Father points out birches on Sunday
drives, as if the bark is sacred, leaves
whispering a secret I cannot hear –
stirs in me an indefinable longing.
My husband planted birch trees
there amongst the flower beds –
how the leaves shimmer in sunlight,
how my heart quickens, bittersweet.
Imagine Father seated there, mellow
as he was in old age, angst expended,
tyranny of parenting set aside – understand
love unexpressed dwells in birch trees.
(Watercolour image by yours truly)
Remember that time
wading to the caves
St Martin’s summer
How the tide rushed in
Atlantic pulling us apart
my body weak with laughter
How you shouted, coaxed –
once ashore we collapsed
wet but warm, hearts flooded.
(My brother and I weren’t raised together, as his father abducted him at age 10. Reunited years later, I treasure the moments we get to spend together, even though they are few and far between. Image my own.)
Fast-paced
moving targets
explosions
and obstacles –
a gamer’s rendition
of the quest for love.
(Tuesday is borrow from Twitter day. My words. My account: @Vjknutson. My image.)
What if loyalty purchased this house
and commitment co-signed?
We’d take out a mortgage
based on love – interest only.
What if our foundation was spiritual,
our walls cornerstones of faith?
We’d furnish our home with joy,
leave room for wonder.
Imagine the possibilities
if we dedicated life to service,
if we made union the hub
found a reason for being
The ingredients are all here –
so where’s the hesitation?
Let’s turn off the screens
and tune into what can be.
Euphoric, I wrap myself
in the silent aftermath
Love’s vibration
still aglow
push aside
the fear
the effort
it took
to get here
bask in the moment,
glorious –
tomorrow, I’ll cry.
(Tuesday, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie, whose weekly prompt is glorious. Image from personal collection.)
I grow roses to remember
a beloved grandmother
the dreams of innocence
the blush of summer love
I grow roses to believe
that life has purpose
and time has no end
and love defies boundaries.
I grow roses to understand
that beauty and pain coexist
and life is about cycles
and simple things have great value.
(Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie, prompt: blush. Image from personal collection.)
