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.)
Fickle, I am –
life cycles catching me
unaware, unstable –
Lessons I appreciate
opportunities to expand
heart…mind…
But this isolation
this carrel-based living
limits perspective
Still, I try.
Purpose –
much coveted
despair-driven –
has returned.
Energy –
motivation
to proceed –
building
Willingness –
once vibrant
now constrained –
resists.
Chasms –
loss created
unparalleled –
require bridges.
Purpose –
discovery born
enthusiastic –
persists.
(Resilience first appeared here in October, 2018. I submit a slightly revised edition here for Ragtag Community’s daily prompt: resilience.)
Progress – seldom linear –
tosses me into unexpected decline –
stranded and incapacitated.
My son – with labour-hardened strength
leaps to my side, steadying me
and I feel the fear in his caring grip.
My daughter, ever compassionate,
reaches out for me with horror-filled eyes
as my body crumples onto the bed.
My husband, my oak, seeks to comfort
his voice betraying the helplessness
this futile predicament imposes.
Beloveds, I know that you see me
this dis-abled, non-functioning shell
weakened and sickly, lying on this bed.
Do not be deceived – that is not me –
it is only an illusion –
a vessel – temporarily fettered.
I am, in essence, beside you –
ambitions and desires intact.
Feel me there, tall and proud.
Sense the wholeness of my being
remember me for the woman I am yet to be –
My spirit stands strong.
(I first wrote this poem in August of 2015, when efforts to sit up and visit with friends caused a collapse. I wrote it as reassurance for my family that the woman they knew was still strong. I post here now as a reminder to myself – of how far I have come, and how strong my spirit remains.)
In corners, I scrounge –
resilience fading;
hope, it seems, is sleeping.
Living a quarter life,
even ascents depressed;
dubious that alternatives
are worthwhile.
Walls would suffice –
once dreamt of co-habitating
with abundance,
now housed with constraints.
Age losing preferences,
counting worries either way.
Purpose –
much coveted,
despair-driven –
has returned.
Energy –
motivation
to proceed –
building.
Willingness –
once vibrant,
now constrained –
resists.
Chasms –
loss created,
unparalleled –
defy bridges.
Purpose –
discovery born,
enthusiastic –
persists.
Who instigated the abandonment?
It’s an ugly question –
manifests pretensions –
both sides righteous,
blinded…
when the rage subsides
faith will intervene,
and acceptance –
a milestone,
will springboard
recovery, victims
voices gaining clarity,
intent amended,
launching into love
once again.
We are seekers,
wholeness our quest –
turning to experts for answers,
praying for a cure
fearful of the unknown;
prefer following over charting
a new course – passengers
positioning ourselves for salvation
grasping at clues, losing
ground, plummeting –
bottom, they say, is where
the healing begins.
We hitch ourselves to hope –
know struggle as a constant –
onboard, compliant, worship
professional advice, motivated;
caregivers are our pastures,
we overlook inconsistencies –
dare not doubt – climb
over obstacles, persevere
through red tape, and
when disease persists and
compassions run dry,
we resign ourselves
to a new course,
will embrace any madness
believe that a new set of eyes
just might turn our lives around.
(Image: betablog.org)
One Woman's Quest 