In Search of Peace

Path to peace is circuitous –
having been modeled unrest,
schooled in denial…

Expectation envisions
a grassy peninsula –
gently rolling greens
and tranquil blue waters –
predictability that lulls

I am accustomed to together –
the perpetual state of empathic
measuring – one’s values aligned
to another’s emotional indicator

Looking outward, I contemplate;
force-feed my innards with fluff
of how-to’s and top ten ways –
nothing that sustains…

It’s dawning now that neither
upbringing, nor expectation,
nor the noise of expert wannabees,
will lead me to the peace I seek.

I turn my attention to nature –
study the steadfast confidence
of the Great Blue wading through
darkened waters, intently aware

Like a feathered shaman, he
mesmerizes me, commands respect,
calms the noise and lifts my soul –
the secret is within, his presence
whispers, and for once, I listen.

(This week, I am focusing on living with intent, specifically interested in the ways in which I invite peace into my life.   My weekly challenge is open to all.)

Absence

Slippers, perched at night stand,
twitching impatiently,
mark the absence of feet,
cannot appreciate the meaning
of unruffled bed covers.

Abandoned, a coffee mug
bemoans its curdling contents,
complains of thick brown lines
contaminating its porcelain shine,
has not noted absence of hands.

Chair, pushed back from desk,
in partial rotation, sits awkwardly,
commanding attention, disturbed
by its misalignment, has not thought
to ponder absence of body.

House, uncomfortable with silence
creaks unnaturally, loudly voicing
objections to the absence of footfalls,
automated machinery and incessant
rings, beeps, and chimes of technology.

I try to reassure them that the absence
is only temporary, that the man whose
presence so strikingly fills this space
will return,  hope they cannot read
the apprehension in my tremulous heart.

(Gina is hosting at dVerse Pub tonight and challenges us to consider the magic in ordinary things.  When my husband had a heart attack a few years back,  I noticed how everything took on new meaning while he was gone.  It inspired this poem.)

Of Flow and Fear

A river of people move
motivated by preservation,
hands tightly grasping hands,
a prayer for union in the midst
of unfathomable hardship –
they sacrifice for a promise
of safety, a chance to ensure
a productive life, hope.

Politicians stand on the banks
Casting stone-words, clouding
the surface of intent, distorting
agendas, interpretations –
ripples of fear collide, peak,
crescendo on the backs
of the river walkers.

Who will free the damn
that blocks the flow,
and who will lose their lives
when verbal flooding
turns to red tides?

(Originally written for Story Circle Network’s e-circle.  Submitted here for Ragtag Community’s prompt: ripple.)

Meet You At The Station

Alternate realities
parallel linear logic –

Non-ego driven forays into
magical mysteries –
answers not supplied –

Float in orgasmic,
ethereal landscapes –
kaleidoscopic colours
unseen by cloistered eyes

Behold irrationality –
a mad whirlwind of all-time
convening into a single moment

The portal’s open,
step aboard;
make sure your ticket
is round-trip.

(Submitted for Twenty Four’s 50 Word Thursday challenge.  Image supplied by Deb W.)

Waiting On the Storm

The air hangs heavy and yet I shiver,
threat of rain clouds the forlorn sky;
high above the palm leaves quiver,
the air hangs heavy and yet I shiver
even birdsong has become a wither
Nature’s wrath seldom a passing sigh;
the air hangs heavy and yet I shiver,
threat of rain clouds the forlorn sky.

(An attempt at a triolet for Jilly who is hosting the dVerse pub tonight.)

A Recipe for Wonder

Trust, as if
trust is not an issue

Let curiosity lead –
hunger for learning

See the world as undefined –
focus soft.

(Amaya is hosting in the dVerse pub tonight, encouraging us think about “the secret ingredient”.  I am also linking this poem to Willow Poetry’s: What Do You See?  Image provided by Willow Poetry.)