Disconnect

Narrow passages,
spiritual spires set bar –
minded not teachings,
constraint of hypocrisy
oppressed connection to God.

(Written in response to Willow Poetry’s “What Do You See?” challenge, with the promptings of Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: narrow/ minded.)

(Self) Portrait of a Waitress

Jumbo Jet
they called her –
fast on her feet,
zooming in,
swooping up trays,
delivering with flight
attendant flair.

When did she turn
to autopilot,
stop paying attention
to her destination?

Didn’t she know
she was set
on a crash course,
headed for disaster?

Tried to warn her,
wake her from stupor;
told me she’d reset,
but danger remains.

She is cruising now –
over-sized
turbo-lacking
under-fuelled,
no longer able
to soar – trapped
in a treacherous game.

Waits tables,
tries to keep
a clean house,
caters to others,
lends an ear,
has squeezed
every drop of self
into a low flying life

needs to land
a space of her own,
with room to breathe;
take life in shorter
intervals, refill
her jets.

(Portrait of a Waitress first appeared in April of 2016.   I am re-introducing it here for Ragtag Community’s prompt: jet.)

 

Mystery Beckons

How often I’ve reconstructed that wall,
and still it crumbles, the universe
and ever-reaching temptation,
her tentacles tearing at the fabric
of this constraint –

I am losing the battle,
have little left of value
in this black and white world –
conformity does not suit
my disposition –

Unwieldy as I am, I will climb
that ladder, follow the uncoventional,
delve once more into the mystery.

(Written for Hélène Vaillant’s What Do You See? challenge.  Featured image is the prompt.)

Levitating

Suits meet, banter about deals,
conspiratorial heads bent, deep
throaty laughs, confidence reeking.

I glide by, imperceptibly, am a whisper
on the window of their intensity.

Families congregate on front lawns,
squeals of delight trailing blurs,
adult murmurs lost in shrill echoes.

I float on by, an ethereal witness,
no more than the wisp of a cloud.

Only a dog, unleashed, catches
a whiff of something inexplicable,
gives chase, nips at nothingness.

I am elusive, lacking substance,
he retreats bewildered, interest lost.

Am I somehow flawed,  I wonder
aloud to the gathering of females
draped across my bed, intrigued

Have landed now, solidly connected
to this other-abled reality, grounded.

Intimate discussions of life’s mystery
peaks interest, all want to learn to fly,
beg me to demonstrate, inspired to try.

Detachment is the secret, I reveal;
just launch yourself and release.

Instincts grasp to offer support,
arms reaching out in assistance,
roots hindering their deliverance.

Alone, I swirl above reeling minds
dissolve into the mist, am free.

(It’s poetics night at dVerse and our host, Gina, asks us to consider our poetic hum – what duality we lead.  For three years, I lived an isolated, bedridden existence, while the rest of the world hummed along (pun intended).  It was fertile ground for writing.  The poem, Levitating, was written 3 years ago, and immediately came to mind when I read the prompt.)