Societal Ask

Can we acknowledge the richness of our resources:
that which sustains and endures? Always looking for the next shiny thing,
craving the exotic, the surprising… pushing purpose, movement… toward what? Telling ourselves we want lifelong commitment, and then moving on… emotions depleted. How do we define standards, intuit and reassemble a frame, counsel a collective, when expectations, creeping and woven into consciousness, resemble oppression? Hope -as sold by patriarchal mindsets, striving to mutilate common sense – is useless to revive when society teaches us to blindly follow the unintelligible…

Full moon a warning –
reverence for mystery
not conspiracy

Society’s light
waning on the back of lies-
hopelessness surreal

Hate is born from fear
disinformation a tool –
We are being played.

Step back! Cautions moon
observe under a new light –
reconnect with love.

(This poem, derived from a dream, started as a haibun – prose followed by a haiku – but the haiku multiplied. Guess we will call it a variation on a haibun. Image my own.)

Tongue Tied

Two-tongued –
speaking both heart and mind –
complex languages
whose nuances
I’ve never quite mastered,
yet believe myself
to be conversant in.

It’s a constant learning
to nail enunciation –
linguistics a tiresome topic

the mind –
a guttural dialect –
leans towards equation
and absolutes –
hard consonants and long vowels

while heart-speak
rolls off the tongue –
soft, cooing syllables,
elongated tones, and
whimsical passages

I’d happily demonstrate
the extent of my proficiency
but the two tongues
are currently contradictory –
the clamour of their discord
drowning out the peace
requisite for translation.

(A fun piece I originally wrote in 2018. Edited for this version. Image my own)

Could It Be?

Walking away –
the only solution
I’ve ever excelled at…

…and yet, absence
does not obliterate
that which dwells within

I can pretend that I have nothing
to offer, but life and circumstance
require more of me…

…a challenge to exhume
the remains of my potential…
Will I be up to the task?

There is flattery in being looked up to –
the feeling that someone needs me –
but that is akin to temptation – an ego play

Could it be that acquired knowledge
has merit only when shared;
that we are all here to offer our piece;
that in releasing what I’ve learned,
I will find flow, feel in sync again,
restore my abilities and reignite
a passion for teaching?

Dare I hope?

( I first wrote this poem in 2017, three years after being bedridden with ME. Interesting to go back now and acknowledge that life still did have purpose for me. So grateful.

Image my own)

Whale Dreams

Exposed are we,
voyageurs crossing
this great expanse-

One tiny vessel
bearing life’s weight,
two oars to navigate

Unknown depths below
and shadows murky –
we push on. Row. Row.

Sights set on new land
uncharted possibilities –
pray the crossing favours us

Then a shape emerges –
great hulking mass –
parting waters,
rising and transforming

Is this a caricature of our fear?
I am mesmerized,
project a divine presence
look for mystical signs

He shrugs,
pragmatically notes that
the St Lawrence is home
to such mammals

I dream of whales,
crave communion –
yearn for their certainty
their knowing

Just as I wait for a sign
from the departed –
inviting a simpler life,
inspiring hope…

A shore life,
from which I can observe
the numinous.

(Image my own. This is a rewrite of an earlier post)

Burials

Stretchers and body bags
Men in fire suits
stepping over the debris
their load light, macabre

Images charred into my psyche –
four cousins dead
the eldest ten
It was 1968

Now, we stand at an adjacent grave
the children’s headstone an open book –
frozen in time – so many chapters unwritten-
the grief has not lessened

We’ve gathered to bury an uncle
youngest of ten –
only one remains –
the children’s father

At 95, he chokes on words
points to his children in the ground –
Those are my kids! he croaks
although we didn’t need the reminder

Tragedy lingers in the heart
in the mind
in the collective consciousness

I turn on the news –
tiny body bags
on stretchers
carefully removed
from the debris

Tragedy: a forever thread
in the tapestry of life.

(Image my own)



I See It Now

Commit doubting
Unaware of agendas,
inferiority driven
tainted by dependency

Seeking familiarity –
anxiety in togetherness –
a stranger to pridefulness

Shouldn’t love be comfortable
at least, at the outset?

I am spontaneous,
I tell myself,
rely on Fate’s presence
no need to discern

Might as well send out an invite:
This heart is unlocked;
abuse welcome here!

(Image my creation)

The History Lesson (haibun)

“Why do we have to learn about something that doesn’t effect us?” the small, blonde student asked me. “I mean, it was ages ago, and not even in our country.”

She might as well have run me through the heart with a stake, the pain of her words struck me so deeply.  I considered her:  an average student, indulged, youngest child, modestly dressed, like many of her age. Disinterested.

Because without our awareness, and interference, history repeats itself, I wanted to say.  Because nothing that happens in the world happens in isolation; we are not immune. Because ignorance makes victims of us all.

Instead, I sent the class home with an assignment:  ask questions, call your grandparents, find someone who remembers, and be prepared to share what you have discovered.

History foretells –
casts eerie shadows over
disregard’s future.

(Reposting The History Lesson as it remains pertinent. Photo collage my own)