Hand Holding

Found my first love
holding hands
walking home
from school –
grade one.

Father’s grip
crushed,
controlled,
warned against
disobedience,
held on until
compliance
was assured.

My sister’s hand –
frail flesh stretched
over aching bones –
clung to mine
until her internal heat
burned the touch
and I had to let go
while she surrendered
her last breath.

A lover’s hand
lacks stillness –
strokes and cajoles,
employs sensuality
to invoke desire.

Held my children’s hands
with my heart –
never wanting to let go,
prideful possession.

My granddaughter’s fist –
still pink from birthing –
wrapped around my finger
gripping the unknown
with the ferocity of
one hungry for life –

My husband’s hand
reaches out for mine
conveys support
for unsteady legs
offers strength
to propel me forward.

Hands convey
what the mind cannot –
a secret language
nuanced for life’s moments,
leave deep impressions.

(Tonight is Open Link night at dVerse, and our host Lillian has invited us to celebrate with her, as August 9th marks many National celebrations, one of which is National Hand Holding Day.  To see the others and join in, visit here.)

 

 

Moss

The past clings,
like moss, nurtured
by tears unshed,
like sap untapped,
warps minds,
sense of self,
craves perceptional
shift –
a vernal appreciation
for the grandeur
of our contours,
brilliance of wisdom
garnered through strife –
the undeniable elegance
of lush green moss.

(Photo from personal collection: rainforest on Vancouver Island.)

Malevolent

Sensing foulness of mood
they slither out from dark places –
whirling wisps of putrid insinuation

Clever they are, and almost imperceptible
but I am clever also, have succumbed
one too many times to the deceit

will not be played by the mutterings
prodding me to find fault with others
to claim myself unjustly wronged.

With the force of a mountain
I stand fast, repel the daemons,
command uncompromising clarity.

Hissing with disappointment,
the spineless creatures retreat,
disappear to plot their next attack.

(Tonight’s prompt at dVerse comes from Jilly who challenges us to write about the unseen.  I am also including this post in Ragtag Community’s challenge: play.)

The History Lesson

“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.

(dVerse’s Haibun Monday is hosted by Frank J. Tassone, who challenges us to write a piece for Hiroshima Day.)

 

A Tragic Flaw

Was it real,
or a dream?

Flash of brown eyes..
that smile –
just for him –
inviting…

Consumed was he

raced everyday
to that place
in the square

hoping…
to catch her…
to know her name…
something…

Tragic, really,
his inability to separate
dream from reality

How fantasy
kept him single.

(Every Thursday, Deb Whittam at Twenty Four offers a photo and quotation prompt for 50 Word Thursday.  Drop by her site and join in.)

Playing House

A new house promises
evokes dreams
we share a vision –
invite colour,
keep it light,
banish the old.

So we shop,
measure,
consult,
order.

Shipments arrive
pieces unwrap
instruction followed
products delight

Then…
old lamps appear –
those left in storage
all of our years –
and your Nan’s bookcase,
and that blue mirror

and suddenly
our bright, breezy décor
is a fusion of old and new –
and the nostalgia is yours
alone

I sacrificed my memories
for the dream –
am bruised…

Can abide insertion
of personal…yet,
detect underhandedness –
an assertion of the alpha

Yet…
glancing about,
cannot ignore
influences of my taste –
my preferences
overriding yours..

Withdraw objection –
recognizing the sleight
understand all too well
how ego yearns
for acknowledgment
when establishing a home.

(Many prompts and a recent move have inspired today’s writing:
Fandago’s word of the day – ego
Ragtag Community’s daily prompt – abide
Daily Addictions – detect
and Sammi Cox’s weekend writing prompt which challenges us to use the word ‘fusion‘ in a 130 words.)

 

Re-Settling

Front porch –
a balcony view –
retirement’s play.

Novel – this place –
silence stretches,
pauses briefly –

a car creeps by,
or a dog barks –
my heart beats…

inside – commotion –
pounding hammers,
swoosh of legs in motion –

not mine – body bankrupt –
mind impoverished –
no – not that – just struggling.

empty boxes pile up,
others – contents lingering,
unresolved – call my name,

but the front porch
makes promises –
there is time…

(I am a day late for dVerse, but intrigued by the challenge, decided to join in anyway.  Today’s prompts are: commotion (Fandango), novel (Ragtag Community), poverty (Daily Addictions). Photo is front porch view – our first sunset.)

 

Moving Day

A single, blow-up bed
claims my stake
on this house

mostly empty –
dust remnants
of former occupants
rise at my passage –
I chase them

Renovation
will precede
settling in

yet, I will not leave
wrapping myself
in these walls

waiting for
the revelation
that this is home.

(Linked to V.J.’s weekly challenge: home.)

Moving

Outside, clouds hover,
heavy, threatening.

Inside, men haul –
china cabinet,
weathered couch –

accumulation
marking years,
exiting under duress

echoes fill in the spaces

scent of soured sweat lingers

kitchen counters
glare, empty

layers of our lives
stripped away

our vacated shell,
an emotional tug

Is it fear?  Sorrow?

What was it all about anyway?

closing the door behind us
locking memories in the past

we load our small boxes
essentials for a simpler life –
a home on wheels life

point our nose forward
and drive away
as the sun breaks through.

(A year ago, we sold our bricks and sticks house, along with its contents and moved into a motor home.  Now we are reversing the process – accumulating and setting up house again.  Apparently, we like change.  V.J’s weekly challenge is fittingly about home.)