Reach for her
across the abyss
of indifference –
would hold her dear
comfort her sorrows –
empty promises,
I now understand
have abandoned her
countless times
in the name of obligation,
this child that is me.
Reach for her
across the abyss
of indifference –
would hold her dear
comfort her sorrows –
empty promises,
I now understand
have abandoned her
countless times
in the name of obligation,
this child that is me.
But for the beating of heart –
a discordant rhythm –
I am obliterated by fog –
numbness of unanticipated loss
clouded by dreams misted over –
I await sun’s return….
Frayed and overwhelmed,
senses bombarded beyond
coping – seek comfort
in the quiet knowing, and
loving support of kinship.
(For RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge: Â coping & support)
Touching
Resentment
Imbibing
Sadness
Tumbling
Feelings
Underlying
Loss
(In response to Ragtag Community’s prompt for today: Â tristful.)
Idleness is not a ploy
asserted by the river,
her banks, ever vital,
project confidence –
life’s continuum
Her waters, sturdy,
fluctuating, tame
the deepest emotions
I come to the river
hoping to imbibe,
to be intoxicated
in her presence
I come to the river
to be revived.
I have examined your wallpaper,
discussed the scholarly attributes
of shades of yellow, traced the edges
of your unravelling with my mind,
argued the merits of Gothic horror;
marvelled at the brilliance of wording,
the courage to define the nature of
feminine madness, the boldness to
highlight inequalities long before the
establishment of a Person’s Act.
Forgive me, but I need to set aside
this keyboard for a moment, for I tire
easily, am suffering from an exhaustion
that is systemic and calls for elimination
of all stimulus in favour of rest, you see
I share your sentence of confinement,
isolated to a room with windows, my
mind wandering to ancestral gardens,
contemplating shadows and movement
cognizant of underlying forces, creeping.
My husband has just left, dear man, having
checked on me, taking on my burden,
concerned that I am not sleeping at night
thinks that by reading and rereading your
words I am only fueling an already over-
active imagination; begging me to be still
as the doctor has recommended; but I am
burning to tell you that time has no
relevance between us and that you and I
exist simultaneously – a secret we dare
not confess – how correct your impulse
that there was more than one woman,
that we are many, barred by the designs
of society, papered over by irrational,
outdated shades of yellow, lacking
symmetry, or sensibility, suffocating
our creativity, tortuously contorting
ourselves to been seen, accepted.
It is the smell of our discordant souls
that pervades your consciousness
the rotted withering of a stifled
existence – a yellowed existence –
once hopeful, sunny, now molding
mucous, desperately torn away
at the edges, pleading for escape
How grateful I am that you see –
may I call you Charlotte – that you
have smelled the angst, witnessed
the struggle, are willing to tear at
the sticking places, to set us free.
(I wrote this in the throes of severe M.E. – sleepless nights, coupled with systemic exhaustion and endless confinement to bed brought to mind the short story : Yellow Wallpaper. I submit it here and am linking up with Brave and Reckless’ challenge based on Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s piece)
I am communicator,
initiator,
anticipate
a friendly invitation
from the unknown
But the subconscious
alights on the familial –
gathers sanctimonious,
moneyless, old, empty
terrors of dysfunction –
spits out shame
and rage.
Like it or not –
I am vulnerable.
Creativity lands in unfamiliar,
communicates with the unknown –
unformed connections invite themselves in
I am open
Religiosity emerges from the crypt –
impoverished, depraved, and hungry –
overwhelmed, I am embarrassed, enraged –
should not have let my guard down.
Fear builds wall
deflects possibility;
I pray for purpose
block revelation
afraid truth,
unkind, will
shatter equilibrium
Once faith-filled
meaning flowed
like blissful
divine guidance
but life changes,
challenges –
virus suppressing
vitality
I set my walls
ineffectively,
it seems
need to adjust
these filters.
(For Reena’s Exploration challenge: meaning and truth, and Ragtag Community’s: flow; and Fandango’s: firewall.)
Look at me –
all authority and control –
productivity overload
until emotion,
undisciplined,
toddles in,
waves her curls
disrupts
feed her sugar –
a bribe to settle her down –
she’s having no part of it
topples organization,
sabotages rationality –
child’s mind taking over.