Wasps

I didn’t know about the wasps
before I had carried my toddler
across the darkened room
laid her in a bed, crawling

Clutched her sleeping body
close to my chest, turned
to retreat, but the swarm
gathered there at the door

My cousin punched a hole
in a wall, unable to discern
the exit in a smoke-filled room.
The hole remains; she doesn’t

Strangers came to her funeral
drawn by the mystery of the girl
(name unknown) who died
such a tragic death, just 18.

How did this invasion happen
how was I remiss in noticing
that this house of potential
was being consumed by threat?

Unlike my ill-fated kin,
I knew where the door was
braved it to save my child
ignored the prophetic warning

Look back at the ruins now –
hers and mine – the patterns
of abandonment, familial
neglect, disinterest a plague

How we women try to please
carry our children through
the flames, choking on
disappointment… hope

A man lit the flame that killed her,
just as a man suffocated my spirit
threads of sanity carrying me
till my mind escaped the wasps

(Ink and watercolour mine)

Rock Pool

Is it the stillness
of the rock pool
that draws me
again and again?

Authority eludes –
is not my own –
I dodge hawk-eyed
critics, am weighted
down…struggling
to resurface…

Crave tranquil
company, a chance
to breathe…
unseen…
Nature always the key

(Image my own)

Dreaming Oceans

Ingrained in me
this flight
eye on the future
the periphery
closing in.

Husband urges me
forward, but where
this road leads
I do not know

Connected to self
open, escaping into
the vast expanse
becoming fluid
alive, nurtured

I have been spit out
by life so often,
taught to be taut,
it’s hard to plunge,
let go of the past
and just swim.

(Submitting for my weekly challenge: peripheral. Image my own.)

Tempting

Escape sits
stalled,
waiting,
one small key
an ounce of courage
and off I’d go,
a wake of water
heralding my exit.

Instead,
I retreat –
courage resides elsewhere,
such exhilaration
belongs to youth –
will ponder adventure
another day –
wait,
stall,
escape
into a nap.

(Written for Twenty Four’s: 50 word Thursday.  Photo supplied with challenge.)

Slippery

Slippery performed
and my eight-year-old
heart applauded

cheered when he escaped,
mourned the capture,
prayed for flight’s courage

but survival skills
eluded – was certain
I would starve, die

in a cave where
animals would gnaw
on my bones, and

family, unconcerned,
would sigh and say:
She’s just being Slippery.

(Slippery was the name of a sea lion who performed at a local’s children’s attraction in the 60’s.  He escaped into the Thames River and was captured again.  I can remember being torn between sorrow for him that he didn’t want to be there, and sorrow for us that he didn’t love us the way loved him.

It’s Open Link Night at dVerse, and I am also submitting this for 50 Word Thursday, Fandango’s: guess, and Ragtag Community’s prompt: slippery.)

Anchored in Morbidity

Cruising fills my fantasies –
reveling in life, loved ones in tow,
prideful, excited –
sailing past Mecca,
places of service,
relinquishing embellishments,
fully alive!

Conceived in strife –
a familial intrigue
with the macabre –
I am dragged along
treacherous passages,
abandoning joy for desolation,
preoccupied with loss of life.

Reviled, I retreat
flee, crying out in alarm,
cannot tolerate
flesh-eating
walking dead

Crave restoration
of equilibrium,
a life purpose
worthy of visibility

am stalked
by regrets –
a damaged child
seeking baser needs-
elude her!

Launch this ship;
sail into the exotic –
escape!

Responsibility
anchors me,
secrets and wounds
regress – I am
the living dead,
locked out,
focus crowded

need a new defense
if I am to intentionally
recapture relation
ships.