Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Considering refurbishingchildhood home Unrecognizable nownumerous makeoversand even re-purposing But my heart is investedand well, I can see potentialand, oh…I know it will take work All the walls I’ve torn downand the excess furnitureand how I’ve imagined duplicity Is this folly on my partthis revisionist thinkingsee…I’m sure there is treasure hidden amongst the forgottenburied perhaps in […]
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I drink the backwashof hollowed out promises Is it me, invites indifferenceexpectations so low, selfgowned in layered shame? How do I learn otherwisebreak this toxic patternif not in pursuit of love? (Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
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Rebellion rages in my veins, Dreamcatcher, so tightly wound I have blocked hopeI want to be good – a good girl –like that man of God saysbut his preaching ways violateprophecies a cover for sinand I am so sullied that I fearlove will distain me. How did I get here, Dreamcatcherchildhood a lost notion – […]
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Too young to understandethos of beauty regimesshe rejects girlish ritualssees beauty in naturein glitter of make-believe This abnegation of groomingnot rebellion, but appreciationa nuance that escapesMother’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 […]
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Father, as immoveable as a mountain taught us to orchestrate submontane routes Circumnavigating his rocky moods bestowed upon us a fear of masculinity Resilience instilled the necessity of mining gold from darkness: still digging. (Sketch mine)
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Had a weird sort of lexicon the man who professed to be my dad – Clamped in his chokehold he’d demand words of devotion Became inured to this dichotomy – spent a lifetime searching for love – Just the right balance of cruelty and kind. (Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Sketch mine.)
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Summer of ’67 British invasion Canada claiming 100 – Dad arrives home in a powder puff blue convertible. Back seat sisters long hair flapping bellowing along with 8-track tunes: Loving Spoonful “Do you believe in magic?” I, barely nine idolizing a sister sixteen – a model with go-go boots and hippie style Cottaged at Sauble […]
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The place remains in my dreams like a movie set preserved… Have assigned each room a critique – disclosed the crimes Yet, it remains, like a beacon draws me to it, begs reflection What if I could go back now that I can breathe Now that I’ve laid claim to maturity would I discover a […]
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Not yet double digits when the sting of rejection punctured my ego – “We can’t play with you,” peers gloated; “our mothers said.” What did I know of reasons or replies, just felt a part of me die. Still trying to win approval, heal my nine-year-old heart.
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Remember that time wading to the caves St Martin’s summer How the tide rushed in Atlantic pulling us apart my body weak with laughter How you shouted, coaxed – once ashore we collapsed wet but warm, hearts flooded. (My brother and I weren’t raised together, as his father abducted him at age 10. Reunited years […]
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