Outward facing –
contrived effort –
composure checked,
face appropriately presented.
I turn away –
internal chaos clouding –
lacking resources
for social banter
Wolves taunt me –
predatory monsters
shaming me into retreat –
defences down.
Wade back into superficial,
desperation seeking solace –
hide the flooding within.
Guilt’s a child –
nonsensical in actions –
attempts to hide,
shame-faced, lies –
Guilt is but a child
holds me hostage –
adult self, emotionally
captive, plays along.
(For Willow Poetry’s challenge: What Do You See – featured image)
Proficient at constructing frames,
I plaster over old mistakes,
convinced that survival equates
with marble – am I not a living
example of metamorphosis?
Yet, my doorways lack locks
and there are intruders in
the basement – confidence
dissipates as rage heightens –
optimism evanescent.
(Penned for the prompts of Ragtag Community – marble; Fandango – plaster; and Manic Mondays Three Way Prompt – evanescent.)
I search for sustenance
with indifference –
have difficulty navigating
the aisles of available options.
Divorced from former dreams,
I hunger for renewed inspiration,
encounter only loss and confusion.
Goddess advises, and I,
ear-closed irritated,
hear only assertions
of inadequacy.
I exit possibility,
have lost the vessel
that once propelled me.
(Linking up to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #70)
If I appear to function,
it is testament to adaptability –
I am socially awkward,
with a side of dreamer –
wandering, spinning,
need someone to bring me back –
not adverse to fairytale kisses
or happily-ever-afters –
please, somebody beam me up,
set me down where life is
a festival – music, costumes,
the joyous sensation of belonging.
Momentarily displaced –
a stranger, settled into
someone else’s comfort –
cumbersome in my own skin,
flirting with depression –
needy, not in control
attempt a facade, but
bored with connections –
dominance creeping,
sleeping, I reject warmth
Iced over.
Fragility blindsides –
I am woman.
Strong.
Courageous, some say –
a sentiment beyond my reach
having not chosen this state.
Fragility is pervasive –
body reduced to miniscule fibers,
stretched, torn, bordering
on broken.
Overwhelmed, mind obsesses –
will neither organize
nor let go…
If only I could let go…
I am weeping
and not
Weeping from frustration –
immediate impossibility –
Unwilling to weep for totality of loss –
it is beyond me.
Illness is regarded
with disgust,
indifference,
repulsion
There is no equality for the disabled
And, yet…
Rawness –
stripped of busy-ness –
renders me as any other
A soul yearning for a meaningful existence.
Maybe illness is the great equalizer.
(The Same, But Broken was first written in December of 2014, when I suffered from severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. Â It is revised here.)
This confined life –
carefully construed –
ingrains order,
commands discipline.
I can free myself
from urbanity,
declare adventure
as prerogative, but
how long before
I release the need
for control, unburden
internal restraints
let go, and open
to divine rhythms?
Doubt I possess
the trust required
to live with such
uncertainty.
(Submitted for Twenty Four’s 50 word Thursday. Â Photo is part of the prompt.)
Emotions don wheels,
tear about, burn rubber,
congest – psychic traffic jam.
Alone, there is no outlet,
no scapegoat for this tirade,
just a damned discomfort.
No worries – I will pace
from distraction to distraction,
until sanity makes a comeback.
(Thanks to all the prompters for providing the words to describe today’s state of mind: Ragtag Community (comeback), Fandango (traffic), Manic Mondays 3 Way (damned), and Daily Addictions (tirade).)
Manufacture fresh starts –
build bridges across the abyss,
stay afloat,
imagining –
mythical passages,
fantastical places,
magic of wizardry
just keep the foes submerged,
act carefully,
the house
is under surveillance,
observers
quietly learning.
One Woman's Quest 