Depression monitors my movements
eyes me from across the road, waits
I struggle to define myself, here
at the margins of life, career lost
As teacher, days were outlined
bells, rubrics, and semesters
Now I must learn again, find
purpose in nothingness
Despair wants to move in, overwhelm
But I’m building my fences, regaining
routines – markers motivating
each day – a reason for being.
(This poem is a response to my weekly challenge: define but don’t reveal. Image my own.)
Past love’s deadline
wolves no longer prowl
vultures, smelling rot,
circle overhead, plot
My essence is solitary
feather fallen between
wide-eyed expectancy
and maturity’s abyss
Abandonment or neglect
I truly cannot say…
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
The pages of this life
bound by aging leather
gilded letters cracked
intended meaning
long forgotten
No images adorn
the weathered face
the colour faded
shade of auburn
like my hair
once upon a time
Spine still sturdy
threads fraying
corners curling –
indicators of
a life well read.
(Written for Reena’s Xploration challenge #176. Image my own.)
Feet firmly planted
earth centred
releasing a dam
of backlogged emotion
awaiting rhythm’s return
Does no good to cower
we either suffocate
in a melange of fear
and pain, or find a flow
that carries us triumphant.
Extraordinary
how efficiently
I wield the knife
Slay the very hopes
that keep me afloat
Slash potential
disembowel a future
Opportunity presents –
so many ports and
I unprepared, freeze
None of it meant for me
surely…I am sentenced
to an institutional life
Murderess that I am.
(Submitted for Eugi’s Weekly Challenge: extraordinary. Image my own)
Had a kinship once
with gentleness
and acceptance
confidence, too
Till independence
made me tough
a fortress against
imagined battles
Married myself
to distance
disengaged
from fluidity
Age necessitates shift
those barriers of old
they’re just cons
Readopting tenderness
re-friending acceptance
confidence with humour.
(My challenge this week is con/ scams/ catfish. Image my own.)
Rain has returned
Winter’s fickle nature
overturning hope
I cower beneath
bedsheets, body
on fire – await
an impulse greater
than this pain –
creativity the antidote.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.
Are we trapped by routine
mundanity erasing edges?
Request a shift, pray for
enticement unveiling passion
But we are earth rock steady
foundation nurturing growth
Teacher, Mother, Wife
rhythm moulding futures.
(Today is International Women’s Day. Every woman is a hero in her own way. Image my own.)
Nothing about the job intimidates him –
has lived the ups and downs of mental health –
besides, he cries for the children, abandoned
who jump from home to institution, lost.
Nods at warnings about attachment
knows all the drills of the hospital
feels certain he’s found his place –
is hit hard by the rejection
Seems personal experience, and the willingness
to speak the truth about stigma, shunning
and how many stay silent has no place
on a ward where old school rules.
(Written for Reena’s Xploration challenge #175. Image my own)
Tether me
to the riverbank
I will resist
There are currents
to follow, contours
to memorize
Let me soar
these wings capable
imagination intact.
(Image mine)
One Woman's Quest 