I attempt to predict
but the future is blank
Snapshots only portray
the past, fragmented
Sunsets might suggest,
birds leak probabilities
But I want to peek
behind the final curtain
Cut through the noise
of popular currents
Life is two-faced
deception paired
And row as I might
fighting the flow
Manna follows its own rhythm
nips at my fears, like a tail wind
Nothing in it but to breathe
Lighten this intense need to know
(Image my own)
Here on the threshold of change,
anxiety and despair howling,
shadows of uncertainty lengthen
beneath the fullness of the moon.
She is no guide, this orb-faced
deity, whose countenance
fails to reveal a directive –
and yet, at some intrinsic level
I feel that we are aligned;
know that her pull is primal,
her presence a reminder
that life is cyclical, and
just as the emotional waters
rise, so too will they ease,
and her voiceless essence
calls me to still the madness
close my eyes to fear’s distortion
and attune to an inner calm,
to trust the light within, and
surrender to the unknowable.
(Moon Message first appeared here April, 2018. This is an edited version. Image my own.)
Once, with confidence,
stated my name –
clarity claiming
wisdom as mine
Today, sun burns,
accusing-bright,
I avoid conversation
question what is sane
This paradoxical state
of fluctuation, is it right,
and who among us is steady
enough to know for certain?
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson
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.)
Winds here are unchained –
no fear of stagnation –
learning to tether myself
to uncertainty – relying
on instinct to pull through.
Conscience clear,
even circumspect,
no hidden motives,
just a desire for closeness,
an intimacy only two
can share, and yet
even as you approach
I feel my waters
clouding, doubts
scurrying across
surfaces…
What options for long term care?
Will life linger, abandon me, alone?
If unconditional love exists, then let
it talk to me, gesture desire, offer
support – safety only comes with sleep
despite this troubled unconsciousness;
oversensitive, naive perhaps, will make it,
if only I push outside the comfort of my bed.
suspicious of following, consuming, believe
that outsiders have forgotten me, worried –
security lies in the hands of loving, attentive
companion, otherwise; trying to trust life.
(Image: perfumeonherpassport.wordpress.com)
Heading somewhere,
chauffeur unreliable –
treacherously absent
direction – any road
would be better than
these curb-hopping,
tendencies, head-on
into snowy banks –
Common sense –
usually a stabilizer –
is off duty, lacking
appropriate attire,
his willowy, tree-like
composure relaxed;
nonchalantly shrugs
off the current drama.
It’s not that I don’t
have dreams – have
birthed projects –
lack the stature to
move beyond the
laneway, ambition –
reduced by concern –
imagining catastrophe
death by recklessness,
or worse, attacked by
loyalty – vicious end
to a goal-less journey.
Comfort is where we’ve settled,
a well-appointed existence
with commodities on the side.
I dawdle with grandchildren
casting pink thread for slugs
ignoring the sludge in my veins
while he wrestles with fallen
leaves and closing the pool
and readying for the cold ahead.
Even now, there is no security
no locks to protect against invasion;
we live a permanent transience.
When complacency is threatened
we steel ourselves, steadying
against the pull of anxiousness
telling ourselves it’s all expected
we’ve known all along that life
is tenuous, control a fallacy.
Current upsets prove hollow
and we, precariously plodding,
hover once again at the edges.
Clutter defines my surroundings:
accumulation intended to simplify
only complicates, suffocates.
I am roommate, burden, dependent
confined to a singular existence
no longer lover, wife, companion.
While I lament the past –
ghosts of horrors and indecencies –
he drinks to forget lost dreams.
We have vowed to mend the cracks
carefully secured our footing
and yet our foundations rots.
Is it our over-active need to please
or the cold civility of our interactions
that causes us to withdraw?
My mind drowns me with shoulds
that my body can’t possibly fulfill,
guilt flooding my conscience.
How do we reconcile this distance
imposed by so much tragedy,
right the impotency of loss?
Life rolls on and I with it
humour and meditated calm
wrangling doubt and criticism.
He wears the projections
of my dissatisfaction: unresolved
remnants of old wounds resurfaced.
I can no longer ignore my needs
and reel at the mounting imbalance
grasping for sustenance and equilibrium.
Pulling away, I stubbornly proclaim
self-reliance, hindering progress
endangering self for dubious promises.
These life-altered eyes perceiving
only disappointing, unpalatable options
grasp for an end to this perpetual ache.
I am lost, disoriented, tired
communication clouded by fear
I hardly understand myself.
There is no solid footing on
a voyage as rocky as ours,
no answers to allay uncertainty.
Now is not a time for walls,
tenderness alone will guard our hearts
and patience lighten the way.
One Woman's Quest 