Ode To The Road

A kettle over boiled
will put him in a snit
Leaving a light on,
a sin I often commit.

He forgets the garbage
leaves it in public sight
likes clutter around him
causes me such fright.

Annoyances are doubled
when living in tiny space
yet never will they overtake
the magic of this chase…

For everyday is adventure
when life is on the road
imagine all the memories
and stories yet to be told.

Colouring

Remember when lines meant challenge
and colouring was not confined to
parameters, but an invitation
to explore, and days spent
contemplating invited
song, and nothing
really mattered
except the
moment?

There is a place
balanced between
the bustle of doing and
the edge of non-existence
where fantasy beckons,
where aged minds, content
with past accomplishments
come to rest, to ponder –

who once again recognize
that lines hold no significance,
that colours know no limits,
that music uplifts the mind,
and that memories are places of
exploration, and the moment
is all we ever have.

 

 

Premonition

A mother wakes moments
before her baby’s cry, or
reaches with loving arms
just as her toddler stumbles.

Call it instinct, or premonition.

A sister calls in timely fashion
was feeling a little concerned,
or arrives with tea just when
a break is exactly what’s needed.

Call it instinct, or premonition.

A daughter rushes to
her mother’s side , senses
the unanswered calls
are more than busyness.

Call it instinct, or premonition.

Then, why when he cheated –
flaunted his courtships
with self-righteous bravado –
did I miss all the signs?

Denial negates instinct,
negates premonition.

(The Daily Post prompt is premonition.)

Tangled

Father told me I had no problems –
didn’t even know what problems were,
so I tucked away grief, pretended,
mastered the art of suppression –
what did I matter, after all?

Failed to grasp the underlying message –
ignored the extent of his personal pain,
translated indifference into selfish agendas,
set up walls to protect myself, against him,
projecting rejection onto others.

Too late now, I understand, hurt for the
distance created by misunderstandings,
recognize with deep sorrow that our timing
was out of rhythm – society unable to fathom
the secrets that we held – unnecessary burdens

Wonder if I will ever unravel the deceit,
unwrap the loss of self, the shame, recover
a sense of self-worth that allows for acceptance
of problems without self-reproach, or guilt;
will gain the capacity for far-reaching forgiveness.

 

 

Wasted Time

It’s Monday again –
days passing through
my hands like sand,
no receptacle in which
to catch the granules –
why this sense of urgency?

In high school, I played hooky
wiped away the hours in empty
places, sought answers for
questions I could not articulate,
chased dust while others formulated
dreams – how is this any different?

Am I not just recreating the pattern,
painting over efforts with adult hues,
donning the pretence of self-importance
while occupied with vapid tasks – time
continues to slip by, and what have I
to show for it other than incessant panic?

Feverish

Sleep comes in great fistfuls
will not let me shake it
tosses me in seas of dreams –

a first love, teenage antics,
a mother’s toil – I am pulled
under, tossed like a rag-doll

a soft breeze like a mindful
caretaker, caresses my skin
reassures me with her lulling

sweetness, forgives negligence
of household chores, promises
all can wait; I succumb again

 

 

 

 

Don’t Go Back To Sleep – Rumi

(Rumi’s words have been on my mind lately, so I’ve decided to share them for today’s post.)

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the door sill
Where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.

 

Walking Meditation

Under the umbrella
of green-leafed branches,
I pray for insight, for healing

With the river to guide me,
I walk, mindful of nature,
listening, heart open

As I breathe, I acknowledge
limitlessness of sky, life-sustaining
forces of earth, sacred steps

I sacrifice this separateness
to honour the whole, make room
for spirit, numinous connection.