Was moonstone,
the year I travelled
Crossed the ocean
landed in a shared
caravan in Wales
Tongue tripping
over place names
thought echoing
over green, mountainous
expanses – heart mending
with each panoramic
view of Lake Bala.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Travelled East
in search of self
Half-family extended
unexpected warmth
Was my identity here
with stranger-brothers?
I contemplated pausing
surrendering to other
But that was sleep-walking
The distance still remains
Journey has no end
till soul has purpose
and wisdom relieves
the wounded child.
(Still Travelling first appeared here July 2020. Edited for this version. Image my own)
Flowers greet the rain –
face up appreciation –
nourishment’s glow.
(Appreciation first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, July 2020. Image my own)
I’ve decided, he said, to spend
more time doing what I want to do
I feel the load close in around me,
already burdened by his “me” time.
I’ve learned, she said, to look out
for number one; will not be available
Nice, I think, that you have such luxury
while I tend to the children, chase after
my mother’s needs, hold down the fort.
Take time for yourself – interesting counsel
when responsibility is so ingrained, and
self-care comes across as selfish.
Have so long ago erased personal interests,
will have to shop around to find what it is
that would allow me to abandon obligations.
Soul begs for the reassurance of flow –
an enchanted place along the river,
a moment of solace in which to breathe
Heart glows at the sounds of summer –
children’s laughter raised above the splash
of clear blue – refreshing memories.
(Image my own)
Castles and lockets:
the makings of childhood dreams –
I wander pastures
of blue-tainted memories,
see patterns on regret’s wings.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @ Vjknutson. Image my own.)
I have ventured
into your atmosphere
slipped my skin
your skin
and discovered
a universe
thoughts
emotions
beliefs
blending
into a physical dance
of light and shadow
nuances of colour
delineating life
At our core
we are light
leaning into mystery
cellular interpretations
of a symphony
we cannot hear
Compassion extended
mind altered
we meld.
(Melding first appeared here June, 2020. Image my own)
Supper dishes abandoned,
we cruise the backroads,
destination: river’s edge
A muskrat creates ripples
distorting mirror images
disappears into murky unknown
A canoe glides by,
occupant a silhouette
in the golden sun’s descent
We linger in the warmth
of the fading glow, celebrating
summer’s gracious moments.
(Image my own)
There are shores that remain
ever-etched upon my heart –
emotional tides that tug
and carry me, currents
of past revelations –
I remember drowning
in the swells of loneliness
always the outsider, the grains
of this sentimentality
still shredding my adult soul.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
There is safety in apart-ment living;
would corral the little ones, declare
responsibility, obligations as a mask
for this self-banishing compulsion…
except that I am lying prone, exposed –
brains spilling onto concrete – shadows
revealing the darkness of my condition,
hopelessly locked in physical inertia.
I am an unwitting contributor to
scientific (and pseudo) probing:
audacious autopsies pronouncing
conclusive evidence of motives.
Too polite (and weakened) to deflect,
I submit, demonstrating complacency,
sacrificing autonomy; fail to assert
that it is I who is taking this life test.
And, by the way, am passing quite
adequately, which defies all rational
diagnosis and prognosis, and serves
to reassure me of ultimate success.
(Not Dead Yet first appeared here June, 2016. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 