Category: poetry

Life Warp

Perusing the hardware store
(shops are limited these days)
nothing to tantalize the imagination
still, I browse, searching for normalcy.

Death loiters in aisle 9
taunts me with visions of life
once vibrant, now stolen
leers at me and I bolt

Grocery store holds more allure
ingredients to stir the appetite
the phantom stalks here too
leaves fingerprints on tin cans

The coffee shop has drinks to go
but the spectre follows, leers
schoolboy smug – I’m not sure
whether to laugh or cry

Unamused by the implications
and yet somehow reassured –
the humour doesn’t escape me –
warped this new norm.

Birch Trees (with recording)

Strains of Tijuana Brass flood the yard
while father on bended knee tends
his garden, tiers of stone edged rows
encircling a trio of birch trees.

Father points out birches on Sunday
drives, as if the bark is sacred, leaves
whispering a secret I cannot hear –
stirs in me an indefinable longing.

My husband planted birch trees
there amongst the flower beds –
how the leaves shimmer in sunlight,
how my heart quickens, bittersweet.

Imagine Father seated there, mellow
as he was in old age, angst expended,
tyranny of parenting set aside – understand
love unexpressed dwells in birch trees.

(Watercolour image by yours truly)

A COVID-19 Easter

The clouds donned a veil today
robins foraged on thirsty ground
while a trio of doves swept by

Of course, that’s poetic nonsense –
an attempt at finding beauty
in what is really a grey reality.

Nations hunker in against the threat
and Easter morning arrived
without the fanfare of egg hunts
or children’s raised voices –
certainly not the bonnets, gloves
and scratchy dresses of youth.

But that’s how life is, isn’t it?
Compass set on determination
and before we know it, currents
shift, and we are headed into
the unknown once again.

I donned a grey veil today,
thoughts clouded by chirp-less gloom
could not lift my head to find the sky

This is the nature of hopelessness
to find one’s self confined without
power to alter the course –

This is the struggle before resignation
at worst; acceptance, at best, and
either in time for the next tidal change.

(Too dark, my husband says, can you change the ending?  Make it more hopeful.
It’s implicit in the ending, I counter.  Maybe not.  It is how I am feeling after so many days of trying to stay positive.  But here’s what I know:  I have been in this place before – emotionally immobilized and overwhelmed – and I’ve always found my way out.  Writing helps.  Meditation, walks in nature, and a good laugh do too.  I share this here today, so that you know you’re not alone in what you are feeling.  I share it as one who knows that to reflect upon and acknowledge personal turmoil is better than to suppress it.  I share this with the commitment to ride this current wave, openly and honestly, so that when it’s all over we have a true of record of this time in history, from a personal perspective, anyway.  Thanks for reading.)

 

Sibling Camaraderie

Remember that time
wading to the caves
St Martin’s summer

How the tide rushed in
Atlantic pulling us apart
my body weak with laughter

How you shouted, coaxed –
once ashore we collapsed
wet but warm, hearts flooded.

(My brother and I weren’t raised together, as his father abducted him at age 10.  Reunited years later, I treasure the moments we get to spend together, even though they are few and far between.  Image my own.)

 

Brute

The man is rhino
mere stench of him
inspires fear
clears the room

We cower, quietly
captivated little mice
terrified he’ll call us out
bullied into submission

But this status quo
bears no permanence
time and circumstances
will topple the power

And once writhing
on his backside, who
will venture to help
who will leave him be?

(Eugi’s Causerie Weekly Prompt is captivating.  I’ve altered the word to fit my purpose.  Image from personal collection.)

Edit Me, Please

Skies draw me –
the allure of wings
the inference of escape

Not afraid to dream –
imagination fully engaged
willingness set on go

Till darkness encroaches –
a black line blotting
periphery

Imperfection an ugly
critique – self flails
doubt becomes certainty

Wrench my perspective
away from the gloom
need to crop the image.

(Inspired by the promptings of Reena’s Exploration challenge:  addiction or depression; and Bushboys: Last on card April 3.)

Turning Point

Played host to insecurity –
catered to bullying
undermined by warped
agendas, butchered by
provincial minds –

Retreated, convalesced,
sanitized lost vitality,
believed in phantoms
haunted by compulsions
deflected attempted rescues
ignored counsel to let go.

Shell-shocked
aftermaths
incoherent
self-judgment
inescapable.

Where do I go from here?

Ignore criticism
disarm cruelty
sanctify privacy
detach, discern
redefine boundaries
embrace enlightenment

Focus on caring
be receptive –
choose life.

(Turning Point first appeared here December, 2015, a year and a half into isolation imposed by illness.  I offer an edited version here with the intention of demonstrating the psychological toll of unexpected isolation.  The loss of our routine, life, connections affects us all on many levels. Be kind to self and others.  We all respond to that loss differently.  Linking up with Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: enlighten.  Image my own.)