Tag: life

Maybe

Maybe I just needed a new perspective –
like the famed Hanged Man of tarot –
committed to some deep, internal need,
I willed a horizontal shift; landed with intent.

Maybe it is not my legs that are disabled,
but a soul longing to escape the continual
discord of perpetual motion, a never-ending
to-do list of the success-driven persona.

Maybe there is a greater purpose for being
that is not encompassed by outer drive –
a mysterious meaning that is revealed only
in the quiet stillness in which I now dwell.

Maybe I have been called to a personal
pilgrimage – a Camino of sorts – a crusade
of spirit designed to cleanse and enlighten –
the journey is certainly arduous enough.

Maybe it is through acceptance, finally
having released a need to control, move,
achieve, accomplish that I am able to
embrace the true lessons of suffering.

Maybe this cocooning is an act of Grace
demanding surrender before the actual
transformation occurs, and I will emerge,
legless or not, winged and ready to soar.

Maybe, just maybe, this stripped down,
barren existence is not a penance for
shameful living, but a desert crossing,
offering re-alignment: hard-fought peace.

(Maybe first appeared here Feb. 2017. Image my own)

Every Day Serenity

Serenity every day,
I pray from the frayed edges
chaos rattling, pains howling

Laundry waits in piles
of incompletion – like my life –
demands eroding worth

Hush! I scold the voices
of discontent, the discord
exhausting – I am trying!

Serenity! I pray,
my hands are burdened,
my psyche losing ground

I stop and close my eyes
follow breath in and out
will myself to calm

Serenity steps in –
a moment of respite
available every day.

(Image my own)

Note To Self

Checking symptoms for possible diagnosis: tab 1
Searching for gluten free recipes for leftover turkey: tab 2
Black Friday specials on tab 3
Writing a blog post on tab 4
Email on tab 5

Too many tabs open to concentrate
and Christmas is looming
and the fridge needs cleaning
and I got the groceries
but forgot the milk
and potatoes
and guests are coming
and laundry is piling up

and,
and,
and…

Somewhere at the bottom of the pile
is a note to self:
compassion.

(For Reena’s Xploration Challenge: My brain has too many tabs open; and Eugi’s Weekly prompt: compassion. Image my own)

The Leap

Freezing drizzle
and aching joints
elevate doubt

We are forging
into unknowns,
claiming change

His motivation
drive for both –
I quiet objections

Faith, I have in him
Trust, I have in process,
Hope as my beacon

Many a storm
has passed our way –
the choice is easy

Stay and rot
or risk and thrive –
hand in hand, we leap.

(Four years ago, Ric and I sold our house and all our possessions and headed south in a motor home.  Both of us had experienced life-altering medical crises, and the alternative – staying put and waiting for the next health challenge – was not appealing, so we took the leap.  After two years, we returned and settled in a small community not far from family.  Health continues to be an issue, but armed with the memories of our travels, we face each day grateful for our choices.)

Image my own.

Sufficiency

Disability corners me
twixt two directions –
the hurried rush
of ambition’s call
and the gentle nudge
of wisdom settling

Confined to four rooms
I am distanced from –
invisible to –
the weekend warriors
whose self-satisfied grimaces
race by my window

I remember that push –
not enough hours to the day
not enough money to succeed
never thin enough, fit enough
always grasping for more…

Legless and exhausted,
I am disqualified
from competing,
immersed in retrospection,
luxuriating in perspective –

I’ve always had, indeed,
continue to have
everything I need:
a home I can navigate,
the endless beauty of nature
and the care of loved ones.

Abundance, I’ve discovered, is attitude:
recognition and acceptance
that life is sufficiency

(I’ve derived this poem from a post by the same name, dated October 2014.
At the time, I was five months into the losses that were Myalgic Encephalomyelitis.
Image my own)

I Dance

Forgive the dance –
it’s what I do –
step forward,
slide back,
shuffle, then
lose the rhythm
and start again.

Reaching forward
heart securely tucked,
something embedded –
cellular perhaps –
invites the struggle

and so, I dance –
yesterday, a warrior
today the fool
tomorrow only knows

multi-faceted,
roughly cut,
a gem
of an undefined hue
I will always try again.

(Poem first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, entitled “Forgive The Dance”, October, 2019. Image my own.)