Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Cherubic and reekinggrief’s pallor heavyhe comes to me Of course, he doesI am schooled in compassionseldom flinch at raw pain I attend to the woundslisten; reassurebut I am weary My own sorrow unattendedloss and betrayal an inner bleedknow I have only so much to give But he is not alone,there is anothera mere child… Cherubic […]
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Lust ignores warning signalsfancies itself a savvy consumercommits minor infractions withconfidence, sidestepping anxiety. Loneliness, nearsighted, shopswithout discernment, fails torecognize that all life is transientand patience is the key to harmony. Love – the main attraction – is nota lone chauffeur, nor a self-servingcommander, feeding off helplesslydis-abled hearts bordering insanity nor is it initiated by determinationa […]
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Fancy myself pragmaticbut these cherubic facesrender me nostalgic Not for the times –for they were hard –but for the ideal lost Speculate on failingsshallow expectations,pray I did enough. (Found this old photograph of my two girls.)
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No amount of empathycould help me understandthe storm inside my father Even in his death, thoughtscloud my writing, his presencepreserved in prose… (Even though it’s been fifteen years, my father’s essence remains strong – sometimes taunting, sometimes inspiring, always mysterious.)
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Even heroes lapselife’s connections tenuous I set my dial on pleasingregret failures – Wish I could shakethis empathetic impulse Allow others just to be –focus on accountability for me. (Image mine)
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Father’s gripcontrolling crushwarned against disobedience First loveGrade oneholding handswalking home A sister’s hand –frail flesh stretchedover aching bones –clung to mineuntil too hot to touchI had to let gowhile she surrenderedher last breath. A lover’s handlacks stillness –strokes and cajolessensuality evoking desire Held my children’s handswith my heart – never wanting to let goprideful possession […]
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Invisibility is undesirableI am flesh cravingin a touchless world A voice yearningto be heard, a heart to listen – compassion growing cold. This sideof the table intolerablehow long will we continue Till the rage in me ignitessets your paper walls aflameand will you even notice? (For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: feature image is prompt.)
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I wade through the muckof your vocal excretionsanxious to mend the schism What species of humanare you, would fabricatesuch lies, impose such pain And what species am Ithat would tolerate it;strive for reparation? (Image my own)
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There is comfortin old friendships,reminders of thingsforgotten, of misguidedadventures, and the follyof youth; and there is hopeinstilled by the passage of timeand the evidence that while lifechanges, some things endure, and;it is in the comfort of old friendshipsthat we find strength to believe in ourselves,and the will to penetrate lingering angst, andembrace the possibility of […]
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It was desireled me hereburied me alive Lust borrowedfrom lonelinesshis heart a tomb Flesh from fleshcan be extractedpsyche requires exorcism. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
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