Tag: VJWC

Frozen Waves

Snow drifts in blanketing waves
I’ve forgotten the colour of grass

We plow out paths, add salt
pretend it’s all manageable

Do not speak of risks
how slippery the route ahead

Soon, the thaw will come
temperatures rising, rain

We’ll slosh through the mud
disgruntled and weighed down

Projecting hope in the first sprouts
Spring bearing the promise of renewal.

(Linking up to my weekly challenge: waves. Image my own.)

IT Takes Grit

Calm belies the storm
dis-ease spawning a flurry
fractured ideas
peppered with glints of hope –
with focus, I too sparkle.

(There have been many instances this week that have tested my grit.
I am learning to harness the good moments and hang on.
Linking up to my weekly challenge: I’m learning... Image my own.)

Why Not?

Severe
bone
loss

One more challenge
already exhausted system
accommodating further testing

slow
climb
determination

(Written for my weekly challenge: threes. I was diagnosed with Osteoporosis last year, but due to other, more urgent health problems, treatment was put on hold. Reviewing the situation, my doctor referred me to a specialist, who said I have severe bone loss in my hip and am prime for a break. After a fight with third party insurance, I am finally on board to start a bone building drug. Ah, life! Image my own.)

Soul Pulls

“What in your life is calling you, when all the noise is silenced,
the meetings adjourned…the lists laid aside,
and the wild iris blooms by itself in the dark forest…
what still pulls on your soul? “
– Rumi

I dwell in silence
meetings adjourned
list groceries

Former self faded
sorrowful shadow
definition slipped

I am the wild iris
pushing forward
in darkness, unseen

In contemplation
future doors heavy
snowy the path

If I follow light
I find promise
a verdant valley

I am guided
no destination
only presence

Physical constraints
merely distraction
I am the message

Light, shepherd
dreamer, woman
warrior, goddess

My soul pulls
invites passage
I am ready.

(Written in response to my weekly challenge – opening quotation. After meditating on Rumi’s words the image emerged and later this poem.)

That’s What I Fear

“A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretence and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself.”
– Maya Angelo

I fear living.

No, that’s not it.

I love living…
…but I fear engagement…
…drowning in engagement

Except, I love engagement…
… but only when I dip my toe in the waters
and feel the thrill…
and can still maintain control.

I fear losing control. I fear no longer being able to call the shots, life demanding more of me than I’m willing (or able) to give.

I’m willing to give…
… to a certain point…
…can no longer afford to be sapped dry, wrung out
and discarded… so much hurt
so much betrayal…
such lack of appreciation

I have given.
I have loved and sacrificed and cherished and
given…
…up…
…self

It’s self I’m afraid of losing
and why not?
I am only just able to touch her

She and I, still hesitant
building a certainty
a mutual admiration
respect…

And should I be called upon
to give…too much…well…

I could lose her again.

This is what I fear.

(Two separate blog posts hit me this week. The first offering the Angelo quotation (sorry, I can’t remember the blog’s name) and the second from my friend Dr Andrea Dinardo, who offers the question: What’s Under the Fear? Dr D offers a five step process for self-discovery. This is my response. Image my own. The poem also fits with my weekly challenge theme: except)

Glorious Morning

Cardinal sings me awake
promises a verdant day
viburnum scented breezes
and the sun’s warming light.

(Tuesdays, I borrow a poem from Twitter @Vjknutson.  Image from personal collection.  Linking this up with my weekly challenge, which is morning.  Also linking up with Eugi’s Causerie prompt of the week: song.)

Lost Directions

Partnered once, with compassion –
believed in power of human touch,
dedicated self to caring, certain
I’d found my body of work

Time and circumstance intervened;
I drifted, lost in an eddy of confusion,
marital fray ending in separation –

Life moves in circular cycles, and
I revisit that work now, wonder if
parts are salvageable, viable –

fragments outdated, irrelevant –
compassion still holds merit,
what if I let it drive, put ego
in the passenger seat –

would she steer us down one-way
streets, against the flow to traffic,
rattle elusive confidence –

without trust in process, I lack
assurance of youth’s glory –
would not survive the scramble

Circular lines bypass, spiral;
we are not meant to go back;
must breathe and stop grasping.

(Lost Directions first appeared here in October 2017.  I have edited it and resubmit for my weekly challenge: compassion.)

Needing a Sign

Restlessness accompanies me
on the sojourn today –
unfazed by ripe red
belly of robin,
or shimmering emerald
of breeding merganser’s crown.

My lens seeks out decay –
rotting wood, darkened cavities –
as if my soul craves reassurance
that life persists even where death
hovers – I need a sign.

Discontent, I move on –
drive the river road,
snail pace – praying for
something to shake
this malaise –
birds come and go,
trees radiate Spring green,
I pause, unmoved.

And then I spot it –
across the river, high up –
a massive hulk –
lens raises, adjusts, snaps –
the regal hunter turns towards me,
regards me with ferocious intensity,
does not falter on his perch –

All-seeing, fearless,
he is spirit-manifested,
a messenger, lifting me
from stagnation –
momentary redemption.

(Linking up with my weekly challenge:  in-between.)