The Test

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.)

Time for Reflection and Courage

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.)

Perfect

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)

Moon Message

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.)

Lucky One

Tiger’s eye
reminds me of youth,
how you remarked:
“Save it for luck!”
before brushing aside
my unruly hair…
one last time.

Found you again
decades later,
sipping tea
in a corner café,
dropped the marble
in your saucer,
your smile
bridged the years.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson, this poem edited. Image my own)

(Hi all. This post was pre-scheduled. I have turned off comments. We are currently coming to terms with the loss of a close family member. Will visit when I can, but likely be off for a bit.)

Do Not Tell

No one told me,
in my haste to grow up,
that adulthood, awash
with responsibility,
would also be lonely

And, no one told me
that the days and nights
of sweating over lessons
would likely not lead
to the life imagined

nor that commitment –
the kind portrayed in movies –
does not exist – the word itself
bearing more substance
than the act, fickle as it is

No one told me that
motherhood would change
my reality permanently,
colouring it with unfathomable
pain and joy – such juxtaposition

And, no one told me that
every battle I ever arm myself for,
regardless of its justification,
is really a struggle with self –
inner demons the most menacing.

I never imagined that age,
with seismic force,
would alter my perspective so –
leave me barren and yet enriched,
enthralled with the ordinary
and unfazed by the rest

And, in the end, as I watch
the vernal rains announce renewal,
in the quiet of my solitude, I am
amazed and grateful for all
that this crazy, driven life has become
and that no one ever told me.

(This is an edited version of a poem published in April, 2019. Art my own.)