relationships – Page 3 – One Woman's Quest

Alice Knows

Betrayal hugs with enthusiasm
public displays of warmth
so charming

Betrayal clutches vials
and pockets the laundry money
and gives a cheeky wink

Betrayal taps the shoulder
and ducks before the reveal
grins like the Cheshire cat

Plays me like a top
spinning, spinning,
and toppling hard

till I’m bent over
head between my legs
glancing backward

Sure that I just saw
the white rabbit,
out of breath

Each word a pill
making me bigger
or smaller

Then off with my head
Betrayal has made me a pawn
till it tires of me and moves on….

(Image my own.)

Love’s Waters

Love’s waters rise
defy the impossibility
of our sedentary walls –
tides and emotions
like sculptors
reshaping the contours
of opposition, softening
the places where hearts meet.

(Art my own)

Avoidance

so seldom
do we address
the issue
frightened, perhaps
by the shadows,
the underlying
darkness –

or is ignorance
a more comfortable
state: a numbing
defiance?

(I once wrote poems for Twitter, but it seems to have lost its charm. Image my own.)

Old Codgers

Idleness fills his hours
as if time knows no limits

I devour moments, afraid
tomorrow will forget me

We see-saw between
treacherous righteousness
and fusty avoidance

Ignoring balance –
the sensible response.

(Written in 2019, I chuckle that little has changed. Image my own)

Black and White

If thoughts could colour our world
then each breath would express
a new hue, discovery a game
of wonder…

But, I sit here, muted
afraid of words too black or white,
afraid I’ll only encounter
sharp edges…

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

Wallflower

I accept differences –
understand that internal processes
are subjective, that emotions
colour perception, but..

I seek commonality,
a binding sentiment –
enough connection
to seal the love I crave.

(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image mine)

Washed Ashore

Was willing to settle
even before casting off –
anchor-less, 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
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,
without a life preserver

Ignorant of the skills
I needed to stay afloat
and safe, in a sea where
discernment saves lives.

(Washed Ashore first appeared here in July of 2018. Edited. Image my own)

Wasps

I didn’t know about the wasps
before I had carried my toddler
across the darkened room
laid her in a bed, crawling

Clutched her sleeping body
close to my chest, turned
to retreat, but the swarm
gathered there at the door

My cousin punched a hole
in a wall, unable to discern
the exit in a smoke-filled room.
The hole remains; she doesn’t

Strangers came to her funeral
drawn by the mystery of the girl
(name unknown) who died
such a tragic death, just 18.

How did this invasion happen
how was I remiss in noticing
that this house of potential
was being consumed by threat?

Unlike my ill-fated kin,
I knew where the door was
braved it to save my child
ignored the prophetic warning

Look back at the ruins now –
hers and mine – the patterns
of abandonment, familial
neglect, disinterest a plague

How we women try to please
carry our children through
the flames, choking on
disappointment… hope

A man lit the flame that killed her,
just as a man suffocated my spirit
threads of sanity carrying me
till my mind escaped the wasps

(Ink and watercolour mine)

Nightjar

To be as the nightjar,
identity hidden
in a nest of leaves

hunger for solitude
the time it takes
to heal soul wounds

Lies I tell myself –
true healing happens
with compassion

Sacred gift
of unconditional love
bestowed by a kindred heart

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

Cold Shoulder

Once I counted your love
on daisy petals –
loves me, loves me not

Followed you to Aberdeen
where the grey wafted
like haar off the sea

Everything cold –
cruelty of avarice
absence of compassion.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)