Passionate

I am woman
questing…

a warrior
slashing bonds
of painful past

an aerialist
balancing strife
with fleeting bliss

a she-reptile
shedding distrust
in vulnerability, growing

I push through
the tangled maze
of personas, seek a truth

that frees my spirit
and roots my essence
into blessed being

For I am woman
with a quest…
striving on…

(Art my own. I call her The Mother Tree)


Woman

Are we trapped by routine
mundanity erasing edges?

Request a shift, pray for
enticement unveiling passion

But we are earth rock steady
foundation nurturing growth

Teacher, Mother, Wife
rhythm moulding futures.

(Today is International Women’s Day. Every woman is a hero in her own way. Image my own.)

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)

Good Woman

Cater,
Good Woman; keep your pantry full –
there are mouths to feed, and
whims to answer,
smile on.

Smile on,
Good Woman, feed the children young
and old, their needs cry out
for nourishment;
be strong.

Be strong,
Good Woman, tending your oven,
concocting recipes,
born to serve, raised
to please.

To please
Good Woman, be sure your own pot
is overflowing, lest
fatigue sets in,
and then

And then,
Good Woman, who caters to you –
the children are gone and
husband retired –
what now?

(This is a Crown Cinquain written for Dark Side of the Moon’s challenge.)