Category: psychology

An Escape Plan

An incorrigible hag
engages my loneliness –
like an assassin sniffing out
any scent of vulnerability

I am lowering standards
this history of imprisonment
enabling inappropriate openings

I cry for new perspective
ponder after boundaries
intending to defend

Like an unwanted bullseye
I am pursued on repeat
malice considering me
a problem to be solved

Who is this old woman
whose thoughts are daggers
who calls upon predators
to devour my freedom?

And what ancestral legacy
sets me on such tenuous ground
entrusts the key to my soul
to such devilish factions?

I strike out and miss
am twice thwarted
but refuse to submit

Have espied the resources within
will defeat the infernal voices
and confront the witch

Wits calculating
confidence a repellent
teetering on the edge of victimhood
not a path I care to repeat.

(Ink sketch my own)

Making of a Woman

I know that abyss –
swallowed up as I was
punch-drunk on darkness

Bled as I emerged,
each reach a scrape –
there was release too

Revived now, I honour
that passage, recognize
the making of a woman.

(Making of a Woman first appeared here, December 2021. Image: self portrait in ink)

Where Are The Dogs?

Contemplating risk –
a reunion with a former self
looking for an exit

When did I become a snake
restrained?
When did I become persona non grata?

I slither between stories
convince myself I can fly
distraction a ruse

I have big cat energy
overstepping boundaries
socially adverse

A faulty jewel
dreaming of abundance
 but there’s a dragon to disarm

My mother’s burden on my back
identity a slippery grasp
always outrunning disaster

Fraternize with celebrity, but
too busy boarding
Warehousing:

spiders in the cellar
straight pins on the floor
newspapers akimbo

How will I put self first
while catering to others, upended?
Unable to park this relentless ache

Boundaries, my soul cries
Enact self protection
Install dogs at the door.

(Image my own)

Self-Sufficient

Isolated and incapacitated
I am prohibited from partaking
of the influx of information incessantly presented

consequently cut off
from prescribed expectations
dictating costuming and culture

external expressions of acceptance
are sorely missing, suggesting
an overall lack of self-worth.

Interestingly inverse to such conclusions
is the sudden contentment that arises
from escaping the mayhem

Internal relief overrides dictated performance
surrendering willingly to intrinsic motivation
and renewed self-acceptance.

(Originally written in 2014. Image my own)

Collared and Distant

I side with mundanity
caution-led momentum
still, anxiety interjects

Every day presents beauty
wonder, and where am I?
Slinking away from some black dog –
collared and distant

Life offers me a bridge
and I shrink, ducking into
sheltered viewpoints
praying the moment
passes me by

No wonder the black dog
catches me, straining its leash
to sniff this trembling old woman
its handler oblivious to the
fear mounting in the room

I will project the spots of the past
into silent scenarios, and
brace myself as if riding a tiger –
unprepared and hanging on for life

Avoidance is a fool’s game
for life is challenge
and if I’m honest
it’s not the dark that quickens
but rather that which resides within
 
I am the black dog –
collared and distant
I am my spotted past
and I am, in essence
the spirit of the tiger

And I am the very shelter
that I seek
open-doored
and ever-present
for every weary passerby

My walls may be worn
my countenance aging
but I am not without purpose

I shall seek out bridges
and contain these nerves
and cross into the unknown
instinct and intuition intact

Leave anxiety,
collared and distant
behind.

(Image my own)

That’s What I Fear

A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretence and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself.”
– Maya Angelo

I fear living.

No, that’s not it.

I love living…
…but I fear engagement…
…drowning in engagement

Except, I love engagement…
… but only when I dip my toe in the waters
and feel the thrill…
and can still maintain control.

I fear losing control. I fear no longer being able to call the shots, life demanding more of me than I’m willing (or able) to give.

I’m willing to give…
… to a certain point…
…can no longer afford to be sapped dry, wrung out
and discarded… so much hurt
so much betrayal…
such lack of appreciation

I have given.
I have loved and sacrificed and cherished and
given…
…up…
…self

It’s self I’m afraid of losing
and why not?
I am only just able to touch her

She and I, still hesitant
building a certainty
a mutual admiration
respect…

And should I be called upon
to give…too much…well…

I could lose her again.

This is what I fear.

(Art my own)

Reaching the Inner Child

If pain spoke
less with intimidation
more with invitation

then I might dare
to shuffle closer
attentive and open

Find a fear cornered there
set behind the tautness
barred vulnerability

Speak softly,
intuition would counsel,
approach with tenderness

I would behold
the extent of the injury
length and breadth of abuse

A child dwells in these spaces
believing she’s protected
lonely and alive

Neglect having brutalized her edges
she cowers and yet, curiosity and
hope still hold space in her eyes

I will sit with her in silence
match my rhythm to hers
settle on a calmer resonance

Pain, I’ll offer
is not your fault –
You don’t need to bear it alone

And when, or if
she sidles closer
I will hold steady

Ignore the stench of bleeding
the disarray of matted locks
the sweat of abandonment

And tell her she is beautiful
a soul created in God’s likeness
a cherished one

She’ll not believe me, of course
For that will take time
and the building of trust

But should I stay
soft and warm
and listening

One day I’ll hear her speak:
Would it be okay
if we went outside to play?

(Image my own)

We Are Not Islands

We are not islands
isolated
insulated
to be ignored

We are hearts engaged
in a relational dance:
intertwining stories
weaving new tales

Yearning for love’s reciprocity
Delighting in wonder of discovery

Slugging through painful demise
Striving to be better

We build walls
construct towers
follow paths leading nowhere –
the pitfalls of our quest

Artificial barriers
lofty ideals
dead ends…
and still we push on

Dreaming of hands that hold
and gentle waters
soothing and war
passionate kisses
Love’s rewards

We exist
not for accumulation
but for the gifts that arise
when open hearts dance.

(Image my own)