Time stands still;
we wait.
The noise of speculation
stark contrast to the reality
that confronts us…
Where do we go from here,
and what authority to trust
and in this imposed solitude
can we find the strength
of reflection, the courage
to follow an inner lead?
(This poem first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, in April, 2020. Image my own.)
Islands define us –
attempts to stave off
a ruthless invader
Heritage dictates
reclusive behaviour
shame driving pain
Finding comfort
in solitude, uncertain
if I’ll ever vacate again.
(Tuesday I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson.
Image my own)
Solitude.
I dream of
panoramic
silence –
breathtaking
boundless
sanctity.
Solitude.
Wrapped in separateness
cardboard walls fallen
curling corners of instability –
no refuge in stillness.
Solitude.
Smothering starkness
madness reverberating
canyons of aloneness
overbearing.
Solitude.
Persevere
regale moments
feathered encounters
faces on screens
tenderness
in voices.
Solitude.
Grace finds me
mercy lifts soul
possibility
opens the door
panoramic.
(This is a rewrite of an older poem, last appearing here in August, 2018. I submit it for Reena’s Exploration challenge #163. Please visit her post for a most inspiring video. Art my own.)
It’s odd, this gift of solitude. Perched beside the canal that runs behind our site, I affirm my connection to the earth, give thanks for this place and moment, and acknowledge that I am a part of all that surrounds me. The late afternoon sun casts a glow on the foliage across the way lighting up the mirror-still water with vibrant reflections.
Two winters ago, I was fighting to breathe as temperatures dropped below zero. Trapped inside my home by impassible walkways, I was desperately trying to stave off depression. It’s hard to be hopeful when isolation is imposed.
“There are no absolutes in life,” a professor once told me, and I think of that now – how just when we think our sentence has been handed down and sealed, an opening appears. I have been most fortunate. I savour each moment this current state of solitude offers.
Heron’s watchful stride
invites reflection, respect –
winter’s solitude.
(Kim is hosting in the dVerse pub tonight with solitude being the prompt for our haibun.)
Solitude.
I dream
of expansive landscapes,
crave your panoramic
silence, thrill to the ideal
of your boundless sanctity.
Solitude.
You wrap me
in separateness, strip away
my cardboard walls, tear
at the corners of my instability;
no refuge from the stillness.
Solitude.
I am smothered
by your starkness, by my
starkness, cries of madness
reverberating through vast
canyons of aloneness.
(Solitudes first appeared here in May 2017. From 2014 to 2017, I lived in isolation and silence due to ME/CFS. I examined the phenomena often through poetic expression. This edition has been altered from the original. I submit it here for dVerse’s “Sounds of Silence” challenge. Thank you Dwight Roth for hosting.)
Solitude, I dream
of expansive landscapes,
crave your panoramic
silence, thrill to the ideal
of your boundless sanctity
Solitude, you wrap me
in separateness, strip away
my cardboard walls, tear
at the corners of my instability;
no refuge from the stillness
Solitude, I am smothered
by your starkness, by my
starkness, cries of madness
reverberating through vast
canyons of aloneness.
(Image: serendipityteam.wordpress.com)
A singular activity
suffices not to distract
from underlying pain –
multi-task.
Robotic attentiveness
fails to allay
constant buzzing –
re-focus.
Sidestepping issues
elicits no solace,
unravelling inevitable –
shutdown.
I am trapped
in solitary confinement,
sensory deprivation –
unleashed
momentous force
raging within
boring outwards –
scream
silently, alone,
unheard, unseen,
unburdening –
repent.
Self-pity dead ends,
breathe in life,
suppress negativity –
re-align.
Multi-tasking
ignites purpose,
smacks of productivity –
conceals.
One Woman's Quest 