I Need a Bridge

The gap widens –
the life I’d envisioned
washed away by current
reality – widening span.

I need a bridge –
expansive enough
to carry wishes,
to facilitate movement
of passing ideals,
allow for traffic flow.

Or a bridge to slow me down,
help me re-align, directing
me toward a new road,
encompassing change.

(Image from personal collection.)

As Water Flows

Water flows, and my mind wanders,
relinquishing thoughts and worries.

Water flows, and I surrender
to the blessing of life’s journey.

Water flows, and I acknowledge
the fluidity of emotions, change.

Water flows, and I experience
the continuum of life’s cycles.

(It is Springtime here in SW Ontario, and this is the first morning since we returned that I could get out and photograph one of my favourite places.  I wrote the poem some time ago, and revised here to fit the image.  That’s my shadow on the water’s surface.)

Good Woman

Cater,
Good Woman; keep your pantry full –
there are mouths to feed, and
whims to answer,
smile on.

Smile on,
Good Woman, feed the children young
and old, their needs cry out
for nourishment;
be strong.

Be strong,
Good Woman, tending your oven,
concocting recipes,
born to serve, raised
to please.

To please
Good Woman, be sure your own pot
is overflowing, lest
fatigue sets in,
and then

And then,
Good Woman, who caters to you –
the children are gone and
husband retired –
what now?

(This is a Crown Cinquain written for Dark Side of the Moon’s challenge.)

Keep Imagining

Elaborate, the tree forts
imagination envisions

Indifferent, the rationale
that overpowers inspiration

I balk, abandon hope,
build a wall instead,
forgetting…

Creativity is not linear,
tolerates input, planning,
some alternatives preferred.

(Featured image from personal collection.   Doesn’t it just say:  “Climb me!”?  This image is a Live Oak, in Texas, and is available on various products at Society6.)

 

 

Black Madonna, Revisited

Remember that Autumn,
we drove up to Campbell River,
like teenagers, skipping out of class –
a cackle of women, spiritually forming?

Felt as if we had bided our time, willing
this union to occur – high on anticipation,
giddy that our routine femininity had
been strewn across the barricades
of our socially contrived existence.

We were like lesbian lovers, unafraid
to explore our crevices, our souls
hungering for release…

We were researchers, reinventing masks
adopted in formative years, stretching
our capacity to believe…

awakened by the crones amongst us,
sisters united, standing in the the flood
of our collective herstory, shedding
the padding of our religious upbringing,
teetering on the brink of a lost divinity.

Weavers, once paralyzed by the guck
of patriarchal dictates, fear of ascension
retreating, we broke free, immersed in
Goddess splendour, felt the ecstasy
of true abandonment, were wild women
unrestrained, catalysts for change.

How is it that the passion faded so abruptly –
that motherhood and responsibility, and
the rigours of competing in daily life stripped
away the afterglow, smacked me back into
this rigid self-definition, prayerful, thankful,
yet lacking the empowerment of the island?

Have I stored her somewhere; is there even
a space within me capable of housing such
expansiveness, open to wading once again
in the waters of a lunar deity, wiling to sacrifice
superficiality for the compassionate mystery
of the Black Madonna haunting my memory?

( Black Madonna first appeared here in November of 2016.  I resubmit her (edited)  Art mine)

Accustomed to the Dark

Nine months of incubation –
dark, watery womb of life –
emerge to blinding brightness,
learn to covet the light –
yet our soul struggles, defies
ego’s hold on certainty –
fights against conformity,
draws us back to the tomb –
deep into the mysteries,
where discomforted, challenged
we grow accustomed to the dark.

(For Reena’s Exploration challenge, which this week asks us to end our work with: “We grow accustomed to the dark.”  Image from personal collection.)

Cancer. Support.

Cancer.
The fear reverberates, ping-pongs
through our community –
seniors with hope,
fresh start
desire
after years of toil, children, woes
we congregate, create –
new family,
future,
plans rise
yet, we know, existence is
unpredictable, key
in another’s
hands – God
drives, we
follow, fulfill, crave redemption,
or at the very least,
a few year’s rest,
pleasure
unchecked
before the ‘C’ word is unleashed
and hearts throb with sorrow,
band together,
support.

(Written for Dark Side Of The Moon’s Cinquain Poetry Challenge.  This is a Cinq-Cinquain.  Check here to try out this form. Image from personal collection.)