Fancy myself pragmatic
but these cherubic faces
render me nostalgic
Not for the times –
for they were hard –
but for the ideal lost
Speculate on failings
shallow expectations,
pray I did enough.
(Found this old photograph of my two girls.)
On The Anniversary of His Death
No amount of empathy
could help me understand
the storm inside my father
Even in his death, thoughts
cloud my writing, his presence
preserved in prose…
(Even though it’s been fifteen years, my father’s essence remains strong – sometimes taunting, sometimes inspiring, always mysterious.)
Obnoxious
Try to hide this longing
but am as obstreperous
as a Blue Jay proclaiming presence.
Please know, that behind
awkwardness is a heart true
purity of intent incognito.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own. As a child and into my dating years, I was called obnoxious. Now that connecting with others is limited, I am once again aware of how this over exuberant side of myself emerges from time to time.)
My ARt, Another’s Words
inkblots mutate to form pictures, alphabets, stories I did not create
***
decorated trees sway to songs emanating from masked lips imagining smiles that reach twinkling toes and luminous tips (Words are from Reena's Exploration challenge. Art my own.)
Non-heroic
Even heroes lapse
life’s connections tenuous
I set my dial on pleasing
regret failures –
Wish I could shake
this empathetic impulse
Allow others just to be –
focus on accountability for me.
(Image mine)
Snakes at My Door
A preacher dominates
six o’clock news
megaphone voice
commanding protest
mask-less hordes roar
A young repairman
offs his mask with distaste
claims it’s all a hoax,
the cure is withheld
a ploy to control –
read it on the internet.
A friend whose wisdom
and words have inspired
confesses she’ll not accept
vaccination, as her life
is in God’s hands.
And from behind a curtain
of despair, I observe
as words, like snakes
gather on my front step
nest in a writhing menace
The virus’ venom
a poison I’m not sure
I can defeat
And what am I to do
when abstinence from public life
makes me conveniently invisible
and fear that if I speak up
will reveal a truth I cannot bear
that the devout, the young, the compassionate
care not a wink for the likes of me.
Pondering Cruelty
Male mallard
once procuring
offspring, abandons
Female, charged with care
becomes a target, often
killed by next mate
I contemplate the orphans
the cruelty rendered
what purpose struggle serves.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Hand Holding
Father’s grip
controlling crush
warned against
disobedience
First love
Grade one
holding hands
walking home
A sister’s hand –
frail flesh stretched
over aching bones –
clung to mine
until too hot to touch
I had to let go
while she surrendered
her last breath.
A lover’s hand
lacks stillness –
strokes and cajoles
sensuality evoking desire
Held my children’s hands
with my heart –
never wanting to let go
prideful possession
A granddaughter’s fist
still pink from birthing
wraps around my finger
gripping the unknown
with the ferocity of
one hungry for life
Husband’s hand
reaches for mine
conveys support –
strength to propel
me forward.
Hands convey
what the mind cannot –
a secret language
nuanced for life’s moments
leaving deep impressions.
(Hand Holding first appeared here August, 2018. I submit an edited edition here for Reena’s Exploration challenge: hands. Image from personal collection.)
What Legacy?
And when the fatal breath expels
and all is quiet, will you remember me
Bright as an orange bloom
with my words locked inside
A poem inspiring eternity
or will my essence shrivel
Be lost – like dust particles
exposed in afternoon sunbeams?
(Image my own.)
Untamed
Too young to understand
ethos of beauty regimes
she rejects girlish rituals
sees beauty in nature
in glitter of make-believe
This abnegation of grooming
not rebellion, but appreciation
a nuance that escapes
Mother’s frustrated efforts.
(My granddaughters balk at having their hair done, something that drove me crazy as a parent, but now reminds me of myself as a child. One generation removed, I view the issue from a new perspective. Image from personal collection.)
One Woman's Quest 