Metal moans
and brake lines squeal
as rubber comes to a crawl –
tie-up on the highway.
Roadside wildflowers flourish,
attract birds and bees alike –
a butterfly floats by, nonchalant.
Tempers flare, impatience inches,
horns no deterrence for maddening halt.
Let me be the butterfly, I pray,
carefree in the midst of such fray.
Is this inherent restlessness,
a fiery blue spark
of eternal angst
igniting passion –
a call to write?
(Image from personal collection)
There is chaos inside –
of course, there is –
we did not emerge from the womb
fully enlightened…
I release the chaos
brush stroke by brush stroke
word by forming image,
unravel the mystery,
find new depths.
Stitches, I’ve had a few
Casts and splinters and slings
Avoided the C-word
Radiation not needed
Surgery did the trick
Some scars invisible
Underlying lesions
Remnants of
Volcanic-sized disruptions
Instinctually I strive
Visualize a better day
Accept life’s challenges
Live with fullness.
(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge: 
When dawn,
an earthly murmur,
I walk, light
Soon, heat climbs,
the verdant blanket
grass, rose, blossom
I offer water,
hot, relax.
(Friday is Magnetic Poetry online.)
Imagine befriending genius –
accepting social awkwardness
embracing habitual quirks as
incubation for enlightenment.
If I could strip down, release
preconceived notions, agendas,
lie naked, exposed, in shallow
waters, intimately entwined,
unencumbered by sexuality
or gender protocols, I would
shake this sensual impotency –
become one with creativity.
As my father, wounded, I
am inhibited by my feminine,
opting for compliance over
strength, a conditioned identity.
His mystery extends, flawless
sculpting, archetypal secrets,
pretense proclaiming normalcy,
usurping vitality, genius stifled.
(Submitted in response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #78. Click the link to see the quotation prompt. Imagining Genius first appeared here in Feb. 2016. Image from personal collection.)
Winds here are unchained –
no fear of stagnation –
learning to tether myself
to uncertainty – relying
on instinct to pull through.
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.)
I search for sustenance
with indifference –
have difficulty navigating
the aisles of available options.
Divorced from former dreams,
I hunger for renewed inspiration,
encounter only loss and confusion.
Goddess advises, and I,
ear-closed irritated,
hear only assertions
of inadequacy.
I exit possibility,
have lost the vessel
that once propelled me.
(Linking up to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #70)
Thank you to the Story Circle Network for accepting my story: Hoping to Be Missed.
I am excited to report that I won first place in the Reflections Personal Essay Contest 2018.
To read the story and find out more about the Story Circle Network, click here.
One Woman's Quest 