Is it naiveté
this nurturing impulse?
I am a product of genetics
a force dictating flaws
Railing against depression
trending towards light
I exert positivity
borrow bravery
Am odd, I agree
but what is real?
Addiction affects us all
violates progress
My loyalty, intrinsically
tied to abuse, know only chaos.
(Image my own)
How can I capture
the essence of loss?
Sunshine scant
darkness falling
No image/words
stark enough
to serve as allegory
for evil taking lives.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
It’s not intentional
this accumulation
amounting to clutter
It”s inevitable, given
the emphasis on chasing
material happiness
Its impotency is ironic
all superfluous now
that health teeters
Weighs heavily
on my mental state
craving simplicity
The sentiment
we treasure beats
in heart’s memory
Objects age,
lose relevance
generationally
I let go of fear,
the guilt, find
blessed relief
New space inspires
openness, excitement
ensues – freedom.
(Image my own)
Midnight
and moon casts an eerie light
shimmers of white-kissed fields
Headlights off,
I pause to contemplate the glow
endless skies here beyond city limits
A herd of deer graze
ignore the hum of idling motor
celebrate the lunar flood
What drove me here,
I cannot say; perhaps clouds
relentless in February skies
Or may it was another pull,
a knowing, a grace, calling me
to open spaces…an offering
Surreal this suspended moment
stars dispersing sombre greys
tides of emotion releasing
I am transported,
uplifted, encouraged –
Heaven’s stellar promise.
(Image my own)
Ghosts have no shadows
they are unsubstantiated
rumours of a life…
I exist, not because
of my shadows, and despite
the times I’ve been ghosted
Ghosts and shadows –
without them I am two-dimensional
with them, I am poetry.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
What if loyalty purchased this house
and commitment co-signed?
We’d take out a mortgage
based on love – interest only
What if our foundation was spiritual
and our walls cornerstones of faith?
We’d furnish our home with joy
and leave room for wonder.
Can you imagine the possibilities
if we dedicated this life to service,
if we made our marriage the hub,
found a reason for being?
The ingredients are all here –
so where’s the hesitation?
Let’s turn off the screens
and tune into what can be.
(Image my own)
No big box here
our shops line up
in historic rows
Our fragance
eau-de-ferme
earthen fresh
Our spires reminders
that values are simple
and life blessed.
(Photo mine)
Anxiety burns
an acidic devouring
confidence impaled –
mind wanders to childhood dreams
uncovers fear’s origin.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. I came across this tanka written in May/21 that seemed to match with the image I recently posted on my other blog. I decided to pair them here.)
We wait at the station, Mother and I,
one final stop for her – painless she prays;
I busied at bedside – prolonged goodbye –
memories and regrets filling our days.
“We live too long,” she wearily proclaims
“Why must suffering linger till the end?”
I plea and bargain, call angelic names,
yet the will to survive refuses to bend.
The urgency builds as my time dwindles;
must I leave her in this compromised state?
She rallies and stands on wobbly spindles
dismisses fears – has accepted her fate.
Some destinations are clearly defined –
Death is a train whose schedule’s unkind.
(The Last Train first appeared January 2019. Image my own)
There are mouse bits
splayed across the sunroom
stuck to my favourite throw rug
and great globs of glue
The trap my husband set
to catch the recent invasion
apparently lured the hunter
for she, stiff legged and
face matted, is skulking
elsewhere
I stepped on a gluey bit
eyes not yet open
before noting
the disarray
Hard to concentrate
when a tail detached
from a thigh (foot intact)
lie stuck to one’s rug
and entrails drip down
the freshly painted
off-white wall.
One Woman's Quest 