aging · life · poetry · psychology · women's issues · writing

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.

(Two separate blog posts hit me this week. The first offering the Angelo quotation (sorry, I can’t remember the blog’s name) and the second from my friend Dr Andrea Dinardo, who offers the question: What’s Under the Fear? Dr D offers a five step process for self-discovery. This is my response. Image my own. The poem also fits with my weekly challenge theme: except)

art · creativity · expression · poetry · psychology · writing

Tree of Life

Drawn to trees
ink chasing lines
yearning for definition

How to capture
strength…beauty…
such profound calm

Even as the regal Walnut
towers over this place
she dwells within me

I know
I feel her
she seeks expression

My Tree of Life.

(In Response to Eugi’s Weekly prompt: Tree of Life. I have been obsessed with drawing trees. The featured image is the beginning of a series that keeps drawing me in. Others in the series below.)

Three Goddesses
Into the Woods



life · memoir · poetry · psychology · writing

Still Travelling

Travel  East
in search of self

Half family extends
unexpected warmth

Is my identity here
with stranger-brothers?

I contemplate pausing
surrendering to other

But this is sleep-walking
the distance still remains

Journey has no end
till soul has purpose

and wisdom relieves
the wounded child.

(Submitted for Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt:identity.  Image shows an old house with wrap around porch in monotone.  From my personal collection.)