Category: writing

Transformation

As light in darkness
transforms mundanity, so
too am I salvaged –
revelation turning back
the icy pallor of Winter.

(Tanka borrowed from a previous post on One Woman’s Quest II:  Resetting the Dial.  I have given the poem a title here.  Image from personal collection.)

Growth Is Not Placid

Pastoral placid,
tonic for the soul – beware
stagnation, partake
in daring, honour spirit’s
longing for the wild; grow wings.

(For RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Challenge: placid/wild; and for BrewNSpew’s prompt: partake.  Image from personal collection.)

Blowing Off The Dust

Flagrant this disregard,
this blatant indifference

I have come before you
broken and desperate

and been received with
loving compassion, openness.

“It was not I who abandoned you” –
the words still echo in my heart.

In shame, I hang head, vow
to prepare my spiritual bowl

to resurrect a prayerful practice
to know once again the light,

the life that fulfills when
self is offered up as instrument.

(Ragtag community has offered the word “flagrant” as prompt today.  I have been carrying around scraps of ideas for Reena’s Exploration challenge – featured image.  This poem emerged.  I do not consider myself affiliated with a specific religious body, but I do consider myself a woman of deep spiritual faith.)

Freak of Nature

Big Bird, peers called me
or Grasshopper – legs longer
than torso, exaggerated
by the platform shoes
of the time.

Jumbo Jet, another moniker
or No Hips, No Ass –
or simply Tree –
my height towering
for my age.

Awkward an understatement –
self-conscious, exposed,
the ridicule outweighing
any nurturing support –
self-declared freak.

(For BrewNSpew’s weekly challenge: awkward)

Treading Trauma

Treading water
where barracudas swarm,
inject a drop of kindness
incite a ravenous threat

Quick the decision to bail,
shed contamination,
resulting terror –
shame exposed.

Now tread slough
longing floored
robed in foreboding
trembling in shadows.

(I have made poor choices in my life, which still haunt my dreams.  My therapist says to focus on the “quick departure”, honour myself for making the right decision in the moment.  Still, guilt lives on.  Such is the nature of trauma.  It lingers in our psyche.  Image from personal collection.)