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)
Is this progress,
this decision to uproot,
cast possessions aside,
free ourselves of ties?
Can his dependency,
my dependency, endure
the transition, released
from former justifications?
We are companions
embarking on adventure,
companions retiring past
lies, redefining possibility
Or, is this more of the same,
artfully camouflaged –
a continuance of flight
from tyrannical origins?
The paths behind are jagged,
wrought with rocks and crevices
and scarred riddles, and yet;
have we not survived? Thrived?
The road ahead is expansive,
our home an ever-changing
landscape, as wide as a continent –
our minds eager to absorb…
This is progress;
we are unburdened,
free spirited, submitting
to new tests of truth.
(Poem first appeared in October, 2017. Image my own)
One more train
and she’d be away
far enough
to lose him
Scavenged in her bag
searching for a ticket
and courage…
could use a dose of courage
Thought of her mother
how torn up she’d be;
of her sister, confined
to long-term care
Call for boarding
and a decision –
neck smarting from
last confrontation
He wielded his hands
like weapons. his words
like knives – her heart
a mass of bruises
What choice did she have?
Surely staying meant death,
but could she run forever?
Rage found new footing
Picked up her bag
hustled out of the station
Why should one man destroy her –
She needed a better strategy.
(Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 