Imitation

Pockets of light
illuminate the shore:
day submitting to dark

I trace the lines
of our passage
remembering

How winds and tides
shaped us; how carelessly
we wasted time…

Danced around
our solitudes –
imitating intimacy

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

Chasms

Old friend, I would visit you
but this compulsive state of
martyrdom delays our reunion;
then you slip my mind.

You wouldn’t recognize me –
this mask I wear, a product
of the toxicity that I play host to,
puts a life on my kind-heartedness

I want to be helpful
but carry a burden of failures –
ghosts from childhood home
that plug my memory

I have hurt so many,
neglected, now lost; family –
these useless ties are shadows
lurking, directing me –

I am sensitive, wanting
to exile the negativity, have been
taught to be considerate, but
cannot erase the inconsistencies

Spend too much time
browsing, delivering a fragment
of the torment that lies within;
am over-involved with self

Really want to be my best
in search of something greater
but today the frustration
is too raw, am at a loss

Old friend, I have reverted back
to dependence, manipulating,
am mentally unstable,
cannot find closure

in all the scattered pieces –
all I have to offer are bit,
disappointing, really – stored
memories that menace

Believe me when I say
I am working hard; want to start
fresh, have a goal in mind,
have not forgotten you

but am running out of
options, frustrated, can’t catch
a break, as the distance
between us widens.

(Chasms first appeared here October, 2106. Image my own)

Most Saturdays I include an audio recording, but this week my voice is not cooperating.

Unwanted For Life

I misread the cues
come to the table
without questioning
validity of invite;
fail to notice
bodies turned away,
eyes darting elsewhere

Only in retrospect
does the lens betray the lie –
carefully choreographed photos
declaring me irrelevant

Shame directs me
to poorly lit corners
finds me oversharing
with dubious partners
left exposed and violated

I don’t belong here;
part company too late;
never know how to save face

I move on
directionless,
but determined…
surely there is a place
will accept me
beyond tolerance…
somewhere safe…

But my compass is broken,
intentions haphazard –
impossible to replicate
that which is unknown;
such is the legacy
of the unwanted child.

(Image my own)

It’s Time, Women

It’s time to resurrect
our confidence,
recapture the sensitivity
of intuitive knowing,
acknowledge the power
of our resiliency

We are women –
merciful companions,
healers attending
Divinity’s passage,
peace-seekers
directing life’s journey.

Too long have we equated
self-esteem with
patriarchal agendas,
disappointed with
our inability to meet
media standards,
blamed ourselves
for divorce,
disease,
staying home
to raise the children.

It’s time to honour
our strength, restore
feminine worth,
align our resources

We are iron grace,
mindful caregivers,
mate with intention,
our vulnerability,
our sensuality,
aspects of intrinisic
wisdom; we are
keepers of the dream,
beings steeped
in mystery –

It is time!

(Originally penned in 2017, It’s Time, Women deserved another look. Image my own)