In isolation, I am rock
solid, fearless, present
miracle of love, whispers
of what might have been
Will not let current fear
shape me; I am tethered
to faith, gently gliding
(Submitted for Eugi’s Causerie Weekly prompt: mighty. Image my own.)
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.)
Majesty is a tree
no more sheltered
from acts of nature
than I – none
believes it –
days when strength
equates with rigidity,
A right fighter, was I,
iron will, in control –
never measuring up
such foolish nonsense –
destructive, no doubt,
took illness to educate
recognize courage in
of inviting understanding
birth potential –
surrender of struggle
rooted, like a tree.
The force that corrupts
also invokes – strength rising –
a warrior’s shield.
(Written for What Do You See, and Ronovan Writes Haiku challenge: steam (force) & cover (shield). )
Found an old diary – days
when I prayed to the angels,
painted myself white, believed
in a God that cared about personal
forever after – painted myself pathetic.
Took me back to days of heartbreak,
when I pined after a man, noncommittal,
painted myself pink – an altruistic heart
yearning after unrequitable love, willing
to sacrifice, change – painted myself foolish.
Read between the lines about a woman
so desperately co-dependent she’d risk it all,
painted herself yellow, projected sunshine,
believed in fairy tale endings, threw away
dignity, sanity – painted herself delusional.
Wondered how she’d ever survived, knew
that life intervened in the end, saved her –
painted her broken; but somehow she found
strength, moved on, made better choices,
learned to love herself, painted herself indigo.
head on, but know
that it comes with
a single focus, and
not from the sleep
it awakens you,
but be aware that
armed with the
element of surprise
it will overcome you,
tie you up in knots,
render you helpless,
the vulnerability you
fight to protect, now
your only strength.
Fragility relying on
stumble, falter, miss
at first, but in the end
conquer the invader,
reaching out for help
humbled enough to
eyes open to solutions,
Isolation is disruption’s
ally; shared experience
unmasks the threat,
tears open its cover,
unites purpose, and
in communion prevails.