Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
This pedestal of responsibilityhas elevated me, out of reach,out of touch – lumps togetherchildren, mate, mother, sister… Caregiver extraordinairepresent overcrowded byobligations…am unwell,off topic, fed up, surely… I am other abled, have roomfor more – not martyr related –hesitant to plan, my purposefor being so intricately tuned to the needs of others, shouldquit while I’m ahead […]
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It’s just a moth, I offeredthat blue moon nightrattling windowschafing nerves We’d chosen exile –sister and I – refuge from family demons, not ours to claim Innocence borrowsresponsibility – I boreit like a badge;she shattered Could not discriminatedarkness from her owninner light – soughtto end the fury I’ll carry us both,I murmured, too youngto recognize […]
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Tell my woes to Rivershe listens graciouslyan empathic mirror Not so the Jackdawwhose arrogant clatteringderides self-pity Slaps me consciousfor I am victim, yes, andif not careful, abuser. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknuton.Image my own)
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I lied. The initial seed of disappointment has fermented, and in the absence of confrontation, grown roots written sorrowful chaptersconclusion: unworthiness Why couldn’t I just have said:I don’t understandthis makes me unhappy? Where did I learn that prevarication protectsthat I alone am responsible for emotionsthat I do not matter? Decades laterI still cannot uproot the […]
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Tired of same old endingsin which hopes are slaughteredand tragedy and insanity win. Raised by the bottle, learnedto set standards low –still afraid of heights –have fallen as the groundbeneath my aspirations crumbled –a certainly under alcohol’s rule. Tired of same old endingsin which self is battered by indifferenceand ego loses the battle for control. […]
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I am gregariousinitiatorrisk-takereagerly anticipatingthe unknown But the subconsciousalights on old storiesgathers sanctimoniousrumours of unworthinessspits out shameand rage Reveals the truth –I am vulnerable. (Facing Truths first appeared here July ’19. This version is edited from original. Art my own.)
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Father taught us to fetch –What else are children for? I did not like his demeaning sneernor the way he lorded control Mother learned to ask how highwhen he snapped: “Jump!” I vowed to be differentto never let him break me But his arms were strongerand my fear real, and so From my father, I’ve […]
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Call myself liberatedbut this modern woman’sshadow arches backwardsfinds its reflection in legacies How can I forgive my own failingswhen their tale takes root inoppression and abuses long passed?Liberated a misnomer. (Image my own.)
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Wary of ruts –lies I tell myselfsprouting roots,impending progress. Yet, without rootshow am I defined?Does impermanencenot also leave a stain? The ground shiftsbeneath meand I danceimperfectly inventing a rhythmthat defies ruts,mocks impermanenceand eludes definition. (Dancing first appeared here in May, 2018. Image my own.)
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When did guilt obviatethe need for sustenance? This deipnophobia paralyzingheartless stares dredge up my truth: insatiable hungerneed to stuff down emotion the certainty that I deservedthe abuse – endless shame My fork traces the outlinesseparates food groups My mind makes mental notesof what I’ll gorge on later. (Deipnophobia is the fear of dining in public. […]
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