Category: Love

Seasons of Love

Winter came early –
seeped into intimate
corners, froze hearts.

Walls papered white,
intending cheer, only
accented bitter cold.

Layers of submission,
hope, denial, ineffectual
in refueling the warmth.

She followed him down
the unavoidable slope
deep into the abyss.

Chilled, shaken she
braced for the arduous
trek ahead, injected

lightness into an
impossible situation,
committed, unaware

that he’d moved on,
abandoned her with his
customary indifference.

Years later, thawed
by the warmth of solitude
she reflected, wondered

how the blatancy of his
oddities has escaped her –
his fixation on antiquated

ideals, how he furnished
her mind with incoherencies,
collected things, not values.

She had merely been
an observer in his life,
yet it had escaped her

that it was the fiery
summer of her soul,
that had melted his ice

her scorching, all –
embracing passion
that had united them

and, as in all things
seasonally inevitable,
their love would die.

(Seasons Of Love originally appeared in February 2016.)

I am Listening, Child

Child of mine,
what rage is this
that sets you against
a younger brother?

What discontent stirs
so deeply within that
you would lash out
at me, your mother?

Let us sit a moment,
and let me, with tenderness
listen, for your anger masks
pain, and I am not so far
removed from childhood
to recognize that tone.

If I have wronged you,
speak, I need to hear it;
if peers are pressuring,
or bullying, or you feel
betrayed, lay it here
in my hands, and I will
comfort you, and offer
what wisdom I have.

Your well-being is sacred
to me; let me hold you –
you’re not too old;  linger
here in my embrace until
the tears come, and the storm
passes; I will hear your fears,
frustrations, and disappointments,
and together we will figure it out.

Child of mine,
I am here for you,
no matter the reason,
your pain is my pain,
talk to me; I am listening.

(Image: confessionsofanadoptiveparent.com)

 

Poisonous

She is beauty defined –
the flash of deep brown eyes
a wry smile: suggestive, inviting,
she tilts her head, black tresses
cascading over silken skin, and
men flock, eager to bask in her
sweetness, catch the ray of a smile.

She taunts me, mocks my insecurity –
an easy target for one so self-assured –
ridicules my values, my labour, shreds
any sense of self-respect, and then,
with a the flip of a manicured hand,
shrugs it off, invites me for lunch.

I acquiesce, an unwitting stalker,
mesmerized, angry; she is poison,
recognizes my ambitions –  I am fish
nibbling at her bait, disregarding
menace – oppressed by feminine
power, born undesirable, will vomit
her rejection and still come back
for more – a willing victim, adverse
to offense, failure certain, hooked.

Production

What will be remembered
when the show is over –
will humour linger
will dreams tarry
will belief matter?

Friends depart sans farewell
lost in the debris of divorce
we pass in shopping malls
serve each other with smiles
avoid lively interaction

new responsibilities develop
we are directors obsessed
with reason, ideals now lapsed
singularly hoping that personal
potential is in tact; mining

an openness that overrides
lost love, tunnelled explanations,
want to act obligingly, are remiss,
we are fetchers, penetrating rows
no enclosure for fails, will accept

encouragement when available –
hard work is polish for the talented;
I am alive but in need of help,
shutting down, what remains
tinged with immediacy, lucky

just to communicate; would mirror
love, not look for exits, but endings
are all I know, have shopped for
balance, an intermediary to dissuade
rejection, I am a puppy, unfailing

loyally holding onto this puzzle,
wonder at all that is unrequited,
how easily we detach, considering
the carrot that is intimacy, how
all of this is such a production.

(Image: www.pd4pic.com)

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)

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…

VJ's avatarOne 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)

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Heartquake

mind regresses
in the aftershock –
tremors of misspent
devotion reverberate
suffocating debris

teenage hearts
caught in the quake –
a marital schism –
plucked unripe
sweetness battered

I, colourless
abandoned, like
a runner-up in
a beauty pageant
forgotten, flailed

failed as a mother
withdrawn, rattled
psyche exploding
survival a slow crawl
challenges weighty

aligned my burden
with that of another
six adolescents, and
a bi-polar man looking
for female direction

craved the laughter
of children, the sanity
of structures unbroken
dust of the aftermath
clouding sensibility

anarchy rejoices
at lack of clarity
loss of control, dreams
of bliss have no home
when depression rules

retrace steps –
ponder the road
that led to destruction
search for light before
darkness took possession

found a trail of
foundations lacking
fortitude, wrought
with cracks, underlying
angst threatening

the earthquake, I see
as inevitability –
my landscape strewn
with fault lines
corrupt under stress

drama follows the weak
an internal compression
and shifting, uncontainable
wildness – destined to
destroy – breakthrough

(Image: dictionary.reference.com)

 

 

She’ll Never Learn

You think she’d learn –
collects boyfriends like
other girls amass makeup;
always thrilling at the start
the objectified male’s influence
sticking; believes in commitment
while inwardly protesting
ego creates a scene,
manifests conflict
needs to break away –
heart having leaped
prematurely.

You think she’d learn –
past courtships have
established that infatuation
is the exception: not a trail worth
targeting; where is common sense?
she will not listen, loves the sound
of ‘boyfriend’, is dedicated to desires
of the flesh, blind to problems
balls and chains provoke;
impulse is a good teacher,
she never heeds.

You think she’d learn –
clean slate is not achievable
dramas of the past superimposed
had one too many arse-ended
engagements – needs to minimize
this yearning for affection,
wake up, smash the drive
that invokes mayhem
settle for the institution
of loneliness.

(Image: onehdwallpaper.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.