On this Easter Sunday, filled with chaotic ‘that’s not fair’ egg hunts, chocolate dripped chins, and royal battles of the church wardrobe…I must remember why this day exists! On this day of food, frivolity, and frenzied anticipation of the arrival of relatives, drawn together for a common cause; I vow to recognize These Moments….Today of All Days!
There is always a moment in time
Between happy and right
Darkness and light
Death and Life
Like the ocean’s forgiveness
A moment of perfection
Mirrored in it’s stillness
In that moment
The universe is breathless
Waiting for you to embrace
This poem was inspired by a dear friend who sees the radiance in every soul and has helped me to shed countless pounds of unnecessary clutter and limiting beliefs. Thank you Isabelle Hamptonstone!
A pound of anger and ounce of pain
Slowly, steadily, released from my brain
Visiting the past, set to rewind
Feels like fiction, yet undeniably mine
Searching for meaning in false perceptions
Challenging truths of self-deception
Like flying backwards while looking ahead
Mourning the loss of tears not shed
“You’ll miss those tears one day” she said
Only in breath do the answers rise
Suppress the process, questions, and realize
Tension escapes from every cell en masse
Fleeing like sand from a shattered hourglass
Swirling and free, suspended in frivolity
I see the emotions for what they were meant to be
What existed within, no longer has hold of me
Seeing through new eyes, the colours much brighter
Upon release…unconditionally lighter
When does complacency replace compassion?
When does acceptance of, replace intolerance for, injustice?
When do cries of pain, hunger, and sadness become white noise?
After having forgotten for a time
The memory seeped, ever so slowly, back into my heart
Until I could recall the feeling like it was yesterday
My eyes wide open, yet not wanting to see
Not understanding what was happening to me
What was happening to those children on TV
‘It’s just life, nothing we can do’ I’m told
NO! That can’t be right, as my resolve took hold
This is not fair
I know I can help
I am only five years old
We are born with compassion, a deep desire
To help those in need
A basic understanding of right and wrong
Of fairness for all…
When did I stop believing that I could help?
And start to believe that
‘It’s just life…nothing we can do’?
I command you
You are surrounded
To the outpouring
You make room
And everyone else
But not for her
To give and forgive…
Easy, on a one way street
Choosing one direction
Like a deer in headlights
Or watching a tsunami
From the pier
If I wait for it
Will it tear through me
Leaving only an empty
If I break away
A narrow escape
I will never know if this time
It was meant for me to receive
The light of love
A wave of passion
Filling me up
Replenishing my soul
We are all one
Give yes, but remember to
For you are empty
And she is me
I imagine that for many, poetry, or any creative expression, is a journey.
Poetry moves through me. It’s not always pretty, and almost never rhymes. I’m pretty sure some of it isn’t poetic in the least, but there it is. Sometimes recounting precious memories, sometimes taking me to unexpectedly beautiful places, and sometimes…oftentimes…down that road that questions humanity, where, more often than I like to admit, I turn it off, take the other fork, or make a U-ie…not there, not today, I don’t have the time or the strength to go there today.
When I fell off the NaPoWriMo wagon last week, I was there…I tried to circumvent it by trying a prompt or two (let’s stay between the lines shall we?). I thoroughly enjoy reading how other poets pull it off, but I just wasn’t enjoying the process… probably because, I was there, in that place…with 21, self-challenged, NaPoWriMo days ahead of me and no way around it. I quit…and yet I remain…here.
So there is now here.
The time is right.
I feel strong.
I am ready for this journey.
Hang on tight…
Easing into peacE
Tucked in your arM
NaPoWriMo Day 7: Today’s prompt is to write a love poem . . . but the object of the poem should be inanimate. You can write a love poem to your favorite pen, the teddy bear you had as a child (and maybe still have), or anything else, so long as it’s not alive! Happy writing.
Little people, snug in their beds
Quick…it’s just you and me tonight
Eagerly anticipating your surrounding warmth
Your soft caress and weightlessness
Burning candles set the light
Until the the moment we reunite
What’s made from water now returns
Life giving, cleansing, replenishing
Toes wriggle, surface, and sink
Grateful for the freedom from its pointy captors
Living a childhood dream of frolicking
Through the clouds or a marshmallow world
Soft whispers of your melting around me
Free to wander motionlessly
Until your tepidness overrules comfort
And we are no longer one
You slink away unceremoniously
And we part ways yet again