Pain.
I push against it
challenge it
A warrior intent
on proving
I am…
indestructible
unwilling
to flinch
Convinced
that denial
equals power
Except, it gnaws
at my edges
tears me down
bit by bit
Just as I prepare
to succumb…
clarity
…this is invitation
…surrender is a gift
…pain is passage
I let go
absolve myself
of the need….
(Pain first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II in June of 2016.
It has been edited here. Art my own.)
Inwardly we glow…
so it’s said
I shudder
ignorance grating
like branches
on my windowpane
Hope is a fox
mesmerizes,
draws me out,
then disappears
If inwardly we glow…
then why am I so cold?
(Image my own.)
Captivated by bridges
connection previously
assumed impossible
A grandchild’s love
the loyalty of a dog
the kinship of writers
I watch life pass by
flash on sorrow, till
bridges restore peace.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
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.)
Like living in the shadow
of a volcano, each complacency
shaken by treacherous rumbles
While some seek equality
others chew on bitter lack
and who profits when
tempers succumb to
the hot lava of anarchy?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
We converse in actions
words inaccessible –
have not been schooled
in dialogues for two.
His clutter spreads
pronounce’s a kingly
presence, commands
attention, oppresses
I clean with insistence
shuffle papers, wipe up
crumbs, assert my right
to co-exist, belittle him.
Once we studied dance;
he learning to lead, I
to follow signals – the art
is lost on us now, our steps
more interference, blocking
an inconvenience, not a
strategy; we are rhythmless
tolerating avoidances
How did language fail us
experts now at skirting
delicate issues, retreating
into solo performances
Pray time will serve,
absolve the problem, but
distance grows in silent cracks
we only converse in actions.
(Marital Dance first appeared here in August, 2017.
I submit it here, edited, for Eugi’s Weekly prompt: dance.
Image my own.)
Simple phrases
words like scented blossoms
capture my imagination
carry me
How is it,
dear poet,
that you sense my needs
write my revival
(Image my own)
I am orange
in a monotone clime
radiant against
a melancholic backdrop
a poem within
a droning monologue.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Art my own.)
Considering
refurbishing
childhood home
Unrecognizable now
numerous makeovers
and even re-purposing
But my heart is invested
and well, I can see potential
and, oh…I know it will take work
All the walls I’ve torn down
and the excess furniture
and how I’ve imagined duplicity
Is this folly on my part
this revisionist thinking
see…I’m sure there is treasure
hidden amongst the forgotten
buried perhaps in the attic
or other overlooked nook
And as I remember it,
the backyard is an oasis –
Yes! I think I’ll do it!
Reflection and a good dose
of elbow grease, and I’m in!
Recreating an upbringing.
(for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt: reflection. Image my own.)
Do we have to be away
to find home?
Not the mortgaged
two cars in the driveway
double-income kind of dwelling
I’m talking peace
in the heart, comfort
in the soul, blessed home
I have felt Presence
in nature, witnessed Spirit
in a newborn’s eyes
beheld reverence in a dying
sister’s final breath – fleeting
glimpses, nothing solid
I seek an eternal sense
of belonging, of atonement
to radiate a knowing, holy calm
Don’t speak to me of books
or passages, or a brother
with the voice of God
The home I seek is
an inner sanctum
a whisper, a cry
a longing answered
only in moments of pure
simplicity, in stillness
this noise we create
this distancing, is only fear
and forgetting: products
of original separation
a projection of abandonment
remembering, experiencing
the numinous, the sacred other
brings me back home
and I am no longer lost.
(Finding Home was first published here in February of 2017. I resubmit an edited version for Reena’s Xploration challenge: sacred space. Image my own.)
One Woman's Quest 