Through the spider’s web
trapped by illusion; sticky
these thoughts, theses pearls
of venom that cling and bore
Desperately crying: Help!
unable to clear the shadows –
nightmares end, they say,
all I hear is menacing laughter.
(Image mine. Borrowed from Twitter @Vjknutson)
I misread the cues
come to the table
without questioning
validity of invite;
fail to notice
bodies turned away,
eyes darting elsewhere
Only in retrospect
does the lens betray the lie –
carefully choreographed photos
declaring me irrelevant
Shame directs me
to poorly lit corners
finds me oversharing
with dubious partners
left exposed and violated
I don’t belong here;
part company too late;
never know how to save face
I move on
directionless,
but determined…
surely there is a place
will accept me
beyond tolerance…
somewhere safe…
But my compass is broken,
intentions haphazard –
impossible to replicate
that which is unknown;
such is the legacy
of the unwanted child.
(Image my own)
The divide between
emotional stagnation
and old structures
now crumbling,
is fraught with peril
We are called to rebuild;
re-solidify our foundations
and regenerate a flow
that sustains and harbours
growth through peace.
(Poem first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, September 2018. Image my own)
Physical distance
no remedy for dark past
those childhood bruises
etched on old bones – solid as
the house that bore them witness.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
It’s time to resurrect
our confidence,
recapture the sensitivity
of intuitive knowing,
acknowledge the power
of our resiliency
We are women –
merciful companions,
healers attending
Divinity’s passage,
peace-seekers
directing life’s journey.
Too long have we equated
self-esteem with
patriarchal agendas,
disappointed with
our inability to meet
media standards,
blamed ourselves
for divorce,
disease,
staying home
to raise the children.
It’s time to honour
our strength, restore
feminine worth,
align our resources
We are iron grace,
mindful caregivers,
mate with intention,
our vulnerability,
our sensuality,
aspects of intrinisic
wisdom; we are
keepers of the dream,
beings steeped
in mystery –
It is time!
(Originally penned in 2017, It’s Time, Women deserved another look. Image my own)
Rear-ended
by proverbial truck
Unexpectedly, I claim
denying accountability
Sure, I took chances
crossed the line
Rebelliously ignored
limits, road signs
Driven by compassion
open-doored willingness
Saw the danger too late
swerving only mitigated damage
Humiliated by the impact
reckless ego smarting.
(image my own)
Who can measure
the cost of war?
How deep destruction
scars the human soul?
I see the trench lines
carved on fathers’ faces
the ghostly pallor
of mothers’ fear –
only the children sing
unaware, bending to fate
with graciousness;
grief’s shrapnel well buried
(Image my own. Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)
The river will not be pushed
nor outrun – still I try
shattered pieces of my efforts
littering her banks…
Illness teaches that I cannot
flow with or keep up, but…
openness counts…the river
brings and she takes away
I am witness, beneficiary,
a voice, for her bounty, her power
Life is the river. It brings opportunity-
I partake or not; it moves on.
No use building walls; better to stand
at the edge with heart and mind willing.
Words have lost clarity
definitions slipping
societal fog
One cries freedom
while another gasps
for breath…
Is destiny a one-manned
sailboat navigating
ambiguous waters?
Or have we fallen,
poked the beast
of destruction?
(Image my own)
Funny how memory differs…
My fears, closeted,
clouded the view…
Your oblivion smug…
there was potential there, I’m sure –
but sometimes love isn’t enough
expectations and insults
impenetrable dividers…
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @ Vjknutson. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 