Funny how memory differs…
My fears, closeted, clouded the view… Your oblivion smug… there was potential there, I’m sure – but sometimes love isn’t enough expectations and insults impenetrable dividers…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @ Vjknutson. Image my own)
Is this progress,
this decision to uproot, cast possessions aside, free ourselves of ties?
Can his dependency,
my dependency, endure the transition, released from former justifications?
We are companions
embarking on adventure, companions retiring past lies, redefining possibility
Or, is this more of the same,
artfully camouflaged – a continuance of flight from tyrannical origins?
The paths behind are jagged,
wrought with rocks and crevices and scarred riddles, and yet; have we not survived? Thrived?
The road ahead is expansive,
our home an ever-changing landscape, as wide as a continent – our minds eager to absorb…
This is progress;
we are unburdened, free spirited, submitting to new tests of truth.
Poem first appeared in October, 2017. Image my own)
One more train
and she’d be away far enough to lose him
Scavenged in her bag
searching for a ticket and courage… could use a dose of courage
Thought of her mother
how torn up she’d be; of her sister, confined to long-term care
Call for boarding
and a decision – neck smarting from last confrontation He wielded his hands like weapons. his words like knives – her heart a mass of bruises
What choice did she have?
Surely staying meant death, but could she run forever? Rage found new footing
Picked up her bag
hustled out of the station Why should one man destroy her – She needed a better strategy.
(Image my own)
Mysterious, this pull
these avian dreams
I would rather fly away
lacking courage’s backbone
Yet here we are, facing
another day – me the bird And you, the indomitable tree roots to my wayward vision
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
My memory of you –
distorted by childish exuberance- distant and disinterested
Translated vacant eyes
through the lens of my needs child that I was.
Failed to notice
the aura of defeat, the battered heart the robotic responses masking unbelievable sorrow missed it all
Till death knocked
and I saw you anew – adult lenses now fully secured.
Wonder at the fortitude
that kept you upright the love that served us both.
No fault here –
on either side – just a bittersweet understanding.
first appeared here August, 2019. Image my own) Distorted Lenses
into the city Pretend our bones are not dust Ignore our fails Hearts soft Love nostalgic Hold hands like lovers Location historic (ours alone) celebrate resilience.
(Today we celebrate our anniversary. Image my own)
The gambler puts in fifty-cents
expects hundreds in return;
a simple flick of the wrist
and abundance will be his.
I feel like a slot machine: paying dues for minimal input.
Tells himself there is more
to be had, if luck runs his way;
walks away from the richness
of family, joy of friendships –
Id’ be a slot machine for him if love equated with money
Dreams of possibilities beyond
his daily reach, a fast track plan:
fortune is calling, palm itching
just one more roll of the die –
The die has been cast here; no longer willing to gamble.
One more momentous win,
a promise to share the wealth;
what more could any woman want
from a man – half an empty dream?
Took a chance, myself once,… thought he was my windfall
guess, in the end, all gamblers lose.
in July, 2016. Image my own) Gambler
Was willing to settle
even before casting off
anchorless, with no compass
to guide me, nor oar to steer
left fate to the currents
a vessel adrift; naïve
trusted those with power
to rescue me, unaware of the target vulnerability made of me, that sharks like to circle wayward boats, certain of a catch
no wonder, when finally
I came ashore, wrecked
I had lost faith in love,
turned hope to cynicism
had failed to register
the dangers of sailing
into uncharted waters –
the necessity of navigational
resources, and a life jacket,
the knowledge to stay afloat and safe, in a sea where discernment saves hearts.
first appeared here July 2018. Image my own) Washed Ashore
so much inadequacy bundled into one word as if five letters can convey depths of regret, shock, dismay
Seems I am the spark
to your lighter fluid – unintentional, I swear
from the aftermath of the explosion
deconstruct the formula – precautionary I am sorry – that you are enraged, that you are so obviously disappointed that you are consumed with resentment – except, it is sadness, not regret that I feel.
I cannot own this,
was always honest, forthright, did not feed your expectations
learned long ago – we don’t have the power to make anyone feel anything least of all, sorry.
So I’m not sorry,
but maybe if you could just tell me, give me an inkling of what you might need, I can help us out of this hole.
Sorry first appeared here 2018. Image my own)
Love evolves –
a consideration we overlooked those day when passion drove us to fanciful displays
Tried to align myself
to the certainty of your dreams but my compass was set elsewhere
has tattooed us on my heart; the ink still bleeds.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image mine.)