Daily Dose: Unmoored

via Daily Prompt: Unmoored

They told me,

When I was young,

That the dock was the only safe place.

No life preserver

Or boat

Could serve at substitute for the semi solid wharf,

Despite what I saw others act out;

Flying across the water

Or pushing it aside with their bodies,

Gliding,

Weightless.

“Weightlessness is sin, ”

They impressed upon me.

” The cruel spirit

Of hatred and vengeance for the wayward,

Would never put more on you

Than you are able to bear.

But He built you weak

And He built you fragile,

And He built you wicked, and to untether

From the pier of misery

And righteous fear

Is to lean unto your own understanding;

To selfishly profess

That you are your own master

And challenge He

Who had his son tortured

And put the blood on our hands. ”

What they failed to mention was

The beauty of the open sea,

Made all the more breathtaking

In contrast with its fearsome power.

They never mentioned

How  the waters were teeming with life,

Unimaginable shapes and shifting colors

That may have burned awe of a majestic creator into my mind,

In place of paralyzing fear.

Unmoored, at last,

Adrift amidst alien scenery,

I see the futility

Of life at the end of a rope.

What then, is your faith,

Having never faced the Power you give your life to,

Out of horror at the thought

Of facing the Power?

Your anchors be damned,

Any and all.

You think you’re in control-

Wages, dreams of wealth,

religion, and grave plots;

Waiting to rot,  like the salt encrusted timber

You lash your soul to,

Until the day

It’s taken back by the sea.

May 12th, 2017

My hands are dirty
And my face is raw
And this is where I belong.
I may never see
The countries I have heard of
And thought about
For so long.
The world is like a dream
Unreal;
Mystical,
Promising and foreboding,
And I could hide away forever,
Telling myself
I didn’t miss out on anything
Or
I could forge ahead,
be every part
Of everything
And make peace with my smallness,
For it is all I have
And the world is indifferent.

Daily Dose – Harmony

via Daily Prompt: Harmony

He’s taken down the oyster shells

That hung on the back porch,

and the photos from over his work bench.

He’s begun to empty the kitchen drawers

of keepsakes

and papers,

opting to throw out the old anniversary cards.

He said he’ll have to sell the chickens,

but, by the way he’s been leaving the coop open

I think he might just rather they wander off,

like he told the dog to do

when he defeatedly opened the  door, late last night.

IMG_20170422_114112

He forgets, at times,

whether or  not he’s already had his pills,

with no one to help him keep track.

He’s facing his own mortality,

before reaching sixty,

and his wife,

high school sweetheart,

decided it was too much

for Her to bear.

Long gone is the harmony

of living side by side under the guardianship

of mountain sentries,

relentless and proud,

as she turned out to be,

however,  without beauty

but all the ice,

demanding, in the divorce,

that he sell what was to be his final resting place,

their children’s fairy tale castle,

so she can have half the money.

 

Daily Dose- Timely

via Daily Prompt: Timely

It comes

at the perfect time,

a shift in life,

a mind ruffled by breeze

in need of physical motion.

Phases of my life can be defined by events and locations,

whereas sitting still

causes things to blur together,

like a piece of paper

too soaked with water color, pooling in one place

so that all the colors meet in the fold

as a brown puddle

rather than a beautiful rainbow

spread from one edge to the other.

When in doubt,

transition,

hopelessness or fear,

mountains can contextualize the smallness of your life,

and sky scraping trees,

massively gentle spirits,

allow dismissal of pain and discord.

In times of elation

and satisfaction, too,

mountains raise your soul into the sky,

muscles burning,

heart pounding,

alive among jagged rocks;

a soft and delicate life

invaluable

and finite,

yet capable

of infinite peace.

I love heading West

where all the world’s suns

set.

… Like a motherless child

The only thing worse

than the death of someone you love

is the complete and utter failure of that person

to fulfill their role in your life

while there’s breath in their lungs.

They’re walking about,

talking to others,

sharing glances and smiles with people

who are not you.

My mother won teacher of the year,

I was told,

and I wonder why it is the children of others

she came through for.

I guess it’s easier to speak up on behalf

of children whose demons are not of your making,

and whom you are paid to tolerate.

I wonder if she thought of me at all,

the child who desperately needs someone to talk to

and is left to call an 800 number and say,

through tears,

“This is the kind of day you call your mother, but mine is dead. ”

It’s easier than explaining that she just doen’t care,

the person who was supposed to love me forever,

like me for always,

as long as she’s living…

I guess dead inside counts too.

Daily Dose – Unravel

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/unravel/

She remembers the poem

“Ode to My Socks, ” by Pablo Neruda

like you remember seeing an old friend

a few years ago;

The whimsy, like going back in time

to a better you,

right in the middle of those beloved memories.

” I would be

The perfect pair of handmade socks, ”

She thinks,

imagining the colors,

woven together like the simplest magic.

Simple is often the best sort of thing,

especially now,

when things are anything but.

The old friends will never visit,

she made sure of that,

by trying to encourage them to live better.

They weren’t that sort of friends which,

I suppose,

means they weren’t ever friends at all.

And now

The  twilight and goat skin,

Two immense blackbirds,

became entangled,

snagged on what she supposed was love, but,

being the drooping blossom

of a seed sprouted in rock,

she has the tendency to mistake stone

for fertile soil.

It is an easier mistake to make

than someone who was loved as a child

Can imagine.

And it has come to pass

that the one golden thread

is caught,

but time moves ever onward

with no regard for requests to pause

so that one might stop her soul from unraveling

as the result

of another mistake.

Perhaps she’ll have to settle

for being a metaphorical pile

of lovely yarn;

So many things it has been

or could yet become,

instead,  lying on the floor

taking comfort in its own shapeless vibrance.

Sometimes

after so many times,

you take what you can get.

https://m.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/ode-my-socks

Daily Dose – Outlier

via Daily Prompt: Outlier

Small, icy orb

Demoted from planet status

In favor of the sweaty, bloated

Gassy spheres

basking in the glow

Of sure destruction.

The ice,

Way out here,

Glitters,

Tries to reassure me

That my outlier status

Is more beautiful than the well accepted melt down

Near a merciless sun.

My soul bears its own illumination.