Is a child meant
to carry her father’s legacy?
The discomfort of his skin
rubbing against her dreams
till she is fallen, raw,
paralyzed and unable to flourish?
Is a daughter meant
to carry the burden
of her father’s grief?
His powerlessness hers?
His fate hers to shatter?
I wear my father’s hurt
like a personal affront
am armed to go to battle
searching for the words
that will set us both free
He lying in his grave
me, awake and able.
(Photo collage my own)
Slammed by expectations
silenced by your rage
the hero in me exhausted
I can’t make it right, my love
when communication is forbidden
and the voices in your head
hold us both hostage
I’m clinging to memories
resolved to leave here
integrity intact
identity intact
The mayhem in your words
has cut the ties –
I know where I stand
mental health at stake
I’m setting my intention
walking away –
will find my own footing
and hope you don’t forget
That love always holds answers
and despite my somber exterior
the back door to my heart
is always open
(Art my own)
That day we strolled riverside
Wild poppies in full bloom
guiding us
The reassurance you needed
stuck on my tongue –
age and language separating us
We walked in silence –
a regret I carry
Now the poppies remind me
that you were less than naive
that life had wounded you
and that what I had to offer
was so much more than
a voiceless presence
But I was afraid too
And I let you go
My heart bleeds
the colour of poppies
My breath catching
every time I remember
That day
when the river guided us
and the poppies bloomed
and I failed to listen.
(Dedicated to my dear Alina, who had to be brave at a vulnerable time, and whom I miss dearly. Image my own.)
Yearning for renewal
we wrestle dragons –
unsuspected passages,
like time machines
scattering ticket stubs
We distract
seek nourishment
percolate meaning
Nostalgic nuances
succumb to
jagged memories –
Cubism in motion.
(Art mine)
Somehow I knew his mask was porcelain –
impossible to hide the soul’s light
reflected in troubled eyes…
I played along though,
humoured his self-deception
nodded at assertions of calm
Knew that one day the facade would crack
the mask would slip and the rage escape
Why I didn’t run; I do not know
Maybe it was recognition –
my own countenance a carefully construed lie
Maybe I needed to prove to myself
that no matter how violent his storm
this time I would emerge triumphant.
(Poem inspired by Sadje’s What Do You See image prompt.)
I called you.
That one time.
Poured my heart out..
such despair.
I called you.
You weren’t there.
Left a message –
garbled words
rushed to beat
the inevitable beep.
Regret immediate,
then panic –
ineradicable
this outpouring
of a lonely heart,
fantasizing.
I called you.
You didn’t answer.
You never called back.
Thank you for that.
(Poem first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II. Image my own)
Pockets of light
illuminate the shore –
day submitting to dark
I trace the lines
of our passage,
remembering
How winds and tides
shaped us, how carelessly
we wasted time…
Danced around
our solitudes
imitating intimacy
(Once upon a time I wrote poetry for Twitter. This is one. Image my own)
so seldom
do we address
the issue
frightened, perhaps
by the shadows,
the underlying
darkness –
or is ignorance
a more comfortable
state: a numbing
defiance?
(I once wrote poems for Twitter, but it seems to have lost its charm. Image my own.)
We are not islands:
isolated,
insulated,
to be ignored.
We are hearts engaged
in a relational dance:
intertwining stories,
weaving new tales
Yearning for love’s reciprocity
Delighting in wonder of discovery
Slugging through painful demise
Striving to be better
We build walls,
construct towers,
follow paths leading nowhere –
the pitfalls of our quest
Artificial barriers:
lofty ideals,
dead ends…
and still we push on
Dreaming of hands that hold
and gentle waters – soothing
and warm – passionate kisses:
Love’s rewards
We exist
not for accumulation
but for the gifts that arise
when open hearts dance
(Image my own)
Mysterious, this pull
these avian dreams
I would rather fly away
lacking courage’s backbone
Yet here we are, facing
another day – me the bird
And you, the indomitable tree
roots to my wayward vision
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
One Woman's Quest 