My essay, A Girl Named Moose, received honorable mention in the Navigating the Change essay contest.
Thank you to K E Garland for the opportunity. Read the essay here.
My essay, A Girl Named Moose, received honorable mention in the Navigating the Change essay contest.
Thank you to K E Garland for the opportunity. Read the essay here.
Everywhere collisions:
Mindless consumerism
tripping up ambitions
defeating progress
Social networking
mutilating communication
disrupting movement
Consciousness obliterated
by blind compliance
intrinsic motivation extinct
Victims splayed,
flayed, bloody,
numb
Values – not possessions – endure
understanding eliminates dominance
integrity ensures power for all.
Mindfulness calms chaos
quenches grasping urgency
restores hope, direction
Purpose harmonized
with communal focus
realizes potential
releases greatness
(Image my own)
He is rhino tough,
destined for greatness,
intimidates foes
She is rabbit cautious,
freezes in his shadow,
a prolific creator
They debate the meaning
of existence, unlace
personas, find harmony.
(Image mine)
A backlog of beacons
light this pitiful path
Am I too morose to respond,
or is this stubborn arrogance?
Resigned to believe
no good will come
Like a broken record, stuck
on that one sad love song.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Did you know that life would come to this?
Flattened memories pressed between wax
the essence of our efforts forgotten,
the dreams, so carefully construed, lost.
You leaned toward the conventional,
and I was ever the sentimentalist,
and yet we ended up in the same place –
shadow selves standing at the banks
of our dishevelled lives…
Survivors, nonetheless, tokens
of a a past riddled with so many lies,
so much heartbreak…
We are ghost sisters
haunted, hunting,
unable to step away –
Drawn in,
pulling apart –
all that remains.
(Family Portrait first appeared here February, 2019. Edited here. Image my own)
A mother wakes, moments
before her baby’s cry, or
reaches with loving arms
just as her toddler stumbles
Call it instinct, or premonition
A sister calls in timely fashion,
was feeling a little concerned,
or arrives with tea just when
a break is exactly what’s needed
Call it instinct, or premontion
A daughter rushes to
her mother’s side, senses
the unanswered calls
are more than busyness
Call it instinct, or premonition
Then, why, when he cheated –
flaunted his courtships
with self-righteous bravado –
did I miss all the signs?
Denial negates instinct,
negates premonition.
(Premonition first appeared here February, 2018. Image my own)
Anticipating owl’s hoot
dove’s coo startles me
I am plodding turtle
hard-shelled
searching for circles
in this squared-off existence
Dove offers a throaty laugh
then is gone before
my soft-bellied self
can beg deliverance.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Ask me how I’m doing
and I’ll say “fine”, not
because I’m actually fine,
but because “fine” is the only
socially acceptable response.
If I said that I have been lying
here, for three hours now,
willing my body to move,
that would elicit unsolicited
advice and tarnish my “fine”.
I’d berate myself for breaking
my promise not to moan,
knowing that complaining
provokes a compulsive need
to fix, which just infuriates me
Because my concept of trying –
which is defined by getting dressed
each day – does not match trying
every new therapy, drug, exercise
offered by well-meaning but clueless
others, who may experience fatigue
at times, but have no understanding
of what is is to be exhausted after
something as simple as bathing,
let alone debating what I haven’t tried.
So, ask me how I’m feeling, and
I’ll say “fine” and we move on
to the weather, or the latest
movie must-see, and I can bask
in the warmth of the contact
carry the conversation into the
void of the rest of my day, smile
to think that I still have friends
who accept my “fine” even though
they know I anything but…
(Re-de-fine-d first appeared here February, 2016. Edited here. Image my own)
Life stretches out before us
and all I see is construction –
so many unknowns ahead
Search the horizon
for reassurance
that the road is worthy –
destination in view
In truth,
no matter our choices,
it is peace we seek –
not found beyond,
but within.
(Image my own)
Wrestle me from the spotlight
there is comfort in the dark
Shadowed corners are fertile
where nimble imagination feeds
Weary of the light; I beg of you,
drag this scorched ego
Where edges softly disintegrate
and oblivion refills lost bliss
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)