Wish I could converse –
one harmonic voice blended
in a symphony of birdsong –
but my tongue stumbles
reveals me as interloper
As much as I tread softly
over forest floor, my missteps
crackle, alert the denizens
danger is about – no imploring
can reverse the impression
Nature’s sensitivity is finely tuned
and I am urban-scented, barely
tolerated, seldom trusted –
must bear my reverence for this
sacred space more deliberately.
(Image my own)
Expectations are my enemy –
raised without standards,
boundaries full of holes,
I worship at the altar of lies
Fortunately, soul follows it own star –
rages against darkness encroaching,
shatters illusions, commands higher
aspirations – love overcoming fear
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
The heart resides in fragmented nests,
each beat a rhythm of its own desire;
we search for wholeness between breaths,
haunted by a longing – a secret fire –
a quest for knowledge to lift us higher.
(Image my own)
If there ever has been a test
to measure the worth of mankind,
this is it: Fate’s arrow points
to the crises amongst us:
human sanctity at risk
Why then have so many flipped
the question: answered hatefully
when love is the only response?
(Image my own. This poem originally appeared on Twitter @Vjknutson.)
Never joined a sorority,
irked by the concept
of conformity…
Besides, those girls
flirted with audacity,
while my self-image
was frail, shattered by
the fraternity next door.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Time stands still;
we wait.
The noise of speculation
stark contrast to the reality
that confronts us…
Where do we go from here,
and what authority to trust
and in this imposed solitude
can we find the strength
of reflection, the courage
to follow an inner lead?
(This poem first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, in April, 2020. Image my own.)
I’m being a good girl, Dad
Staying out of sight
Keeping my needs to a minimum
Promise I don’t cry, Dad.
I’m being a good wife, Dad
Cooking all his favourites
Letting him walk ahead
Never uttering a peep, Dad
I’m a perfect background wife, Dad
Just like you taught me; just like Mom
Only no one has to hit me to make me
behave, Dad; I learned it good from you.
(Image my own)
Weekends at cottage
we’d linger over coffee,
dew sparkling on primroses
How we’d race to the lake
laughter emerging
from cool depth
Flowers scowl now
Lake’s chill hardened
Do you wait for me
in the eternal darkness?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Here on the threshold of change,
anxiety and despair howling,
shadows of uncertainty lengthen
beneath the fullness of the moon.
She is no guide, this orb-faced
deity, whose countenance
fails to reveal a directive –
and yet, at some intrinsic level
I feel that we are aligned;
know that her pull is primal,
her presence a reminder
that life is cyclical, and
just as the emotional waters
rise, so too will they ease,
and her voiceless essence
calls me to still the madness
close my eyes to fear’s distortion
and attune to an inner calm,
to trust the light within, and
surrender to the unknowable.
(Moon Message first appeared here April, 2018. This is an edited version. Image my own.)
The ability to alter one’ perspective –
to shift certainty to openness –
allows for deeper engagement,
life affirming and inspirational,
akin to wonder…
To deviate is to dare.
(Image my own)
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One Woman's Quest 