Shake the recognition.

Sometimes there are glimpses,
Of what this life could be.
It somehow only makes it harder,
To return to the view I see.
Knowledge starts rebuilding,
As do the little fears.
I try to shake the recognition,
And the building up of tears.

Priority race.

It did not take long,
To return to that place,
Where we are last,
In the priority race.
It did not take long,
Still it hits like a bolt,
To return to the place,
Where it’s all my fault.

Strange dice.

Our decisions can make or break us,
But the outcome’s not in our control.
Too many fingers in the pie.
It becomes a risky strange dice roll.
We choose our ‘for the best’,
And hope it proves to be.
At the moment, someone’s winning.
I suspect it isn’t me.

Whisked away.

When there’s no time for you,
In a day that’s whisked away.
There’s temptation to contemplate,
What that has to say.
I was tempted, I’m rejecting.
I can see the gifts I was given.
That sight’s not omnipresent,
But it’s the reason I am driven.

Springboard.

I am a woman, 
Born of the hills, 
Needing the deepest air, 
From the kind of wind that chills.  
I am a woman, 
Who longs for the sky, 
Fed by the expanse, 
As birds pass me by.  
I look to the stars, 
Am entranced by the moon. 
However long the days seem, 
I know they’ll leave me too soon. 
Like generations before, 
My life will, in these winds, blow.  
Passing unremarkable, 
Caught up in the flow.  
I hope, as a mother, 
My heart will pass on down our line, 
May she feel it, springboard from it, 
And live a life that is fine.  

Call this.

I took a moment to stare at the moon,
Round and bold in a sky partly pink.
I want to hold on to these moments of glory,
And not let myself fall or sink.
This time may be hard, may be testing,
But let moments of beauty prevail.
If I stop seeing the small gifts of joy,
That’s when I can call this a fail.

Overwinter.

The sky is pink,
But my heart is blue.
Trust is something,
That no longer feels true.
Life has taken it away,
And left behind a grey array,
Of moments, memories,
Heartfelt splinters.
In the heat of summer,
Truth overwinters.  

Quietly spinning.

My head is quietly spinning,
From what I’m meant to be.
Your expectation is too high.
Please look and you will see.
I am being more than fair.
I am walking my own rope.
My job is not to please you,
It is not to give you hope.
I am not here to always smooth your journey.
I have my life to live.
You are asking far too much,
And more than I have to give.

Spirit of a servant.

I have the spirit of a servant,
And sometimes it does me harm.
I am bubbling inside,
But I put on the face of calm.
I do not tread my own path,
I act as if to please.
I am seldom brave enough to speak my truth.
It does not come with ease.
I would like a simple life.
It is not mine to live.
I lost my power over time,
And have only myself to give.

No contemplation.

Tonight is not a night,
For delving in to thought.
It is a night for sleeping,
Putting aside the things I ought,
To be brave enough to process,
Have my mind ruminate.
No contemplation for me tonight, please.
There’s enough piled on my plate.

They did not earn.

My baby, your place,
Is right here with me.
We are the ones that can truly see,
Deep in to our souls,
To the beating heart,
How terrifying to ever,
Be torn apart.
My heart would break,
My insides would burn.
This is a power,
They did not earn.

Dead ends.

This is how it goes.
This is how it plays.
Life can take sharp turns,
In the most peculiar ways.
Life can take meanders,
That suddenly become bends,
What do you do,
When you find it gifts dead ends?

Kiss your diss.

Today would have been one that bothered me,
In a previous time.
Today, it smarts a little,
But in essence, I am fine.
We all have our own stages.
We make our choices as we go.
This stage is for consolidating.
I don’t need to coat-tail your flow.
You do you, there lady.
I’ve bigger fish to fry.
There’s greater to things to fret on.
I can kiss your diss goodbye.

Honest has left.

I am riding and rolling,
This life of mine.
I am trying my best,
To find a line,
Balanced and considered,
Because honest has left.
I want this life to live on,
I can’t be bereft.

Take by stealth.

When you need to take a moment,
Just a minute for yourself,
Why must it be something,
That you must take by stealth?

I have long needed this moment.
It will not be long enough,
As life is wading off course,
Through the bunkers and the rough.

I needed to take a moment.
Even if it’s not the time.
I need to find my core,
So I can hold the line.

Temporary Queen.

Amidst all the darkness happening,
Amidst all that could go wrong,
There she is, glowing joy,
Lost in her simple song.
Anything I’ve ever done,
Right or wrong or in between,
Is washed clean by the light that she gives out.
I am a temporary queen.

Pause given.

Today was not the day I wanted.  
It was not the day I had hoped and longed for.
It was just the day that was given.
It gave answers and it gave pause.
Just as the night was not what I greedily envisaged,
It has all been of need.
What of tonight?
Please give me the night.

Hanging on.

I have doubts, don’t we all,
That make me want to build a wall.
I feel the need to close ranks and protect.
Anything else, feels like neglect.
I don’t know whether to trust these doubts.
They are quiet, they do not choose to shout.
They are quiet, but still are firmly here,
Hanging around the things I hold dear.
I wish these doubts would go away,
But they seem determined to hang on, to stay.

Then overflow.

There hasn’t been enough time to recover.
It was just a little precious time to refill,
There has been no time to replenish,
Before I have to bend to your will.
The time that is mine, that’s for me,
Is too short, it disappears fast.
I need to reconnect with my peace,
Because I worry it’s draining fast.
I need more time to recover,
To refill, then overflow.
I need to be the person I was,
So very long ago.

Dampen fires.

Once again I missed the boat,
Too tired to take that time,
Those precious empty moments,
That could have become mine.
My body took what was needed.
It tends to ignore desires.
It puts the body to rest,
And tends to dampen fires.

No joy to lend.

I did not embrace the day.  
I wanted it to end.
All my energy worn on it passing,
I had no joy to lend.
As it closed, my spirit lifted.
Was it relief or it is just,
That this cloud is slowly lifting?
In that I have to trust.

Any peace.

I am letting life lead me.
I’m going with the tide.
I’m participating where it calls me,
But mostly I choose to hide.
I choose the peace that I can get.
It’s truly not enough,
But I’ll take any peace that I can get,
When a journey turns out rough.

A mark.

I am grateful for you, every time.
You bring life in to each meeting,
And in these current times,
I know that happiness is fleeting.
It’s why I’m ever grateful,
That you take time to gift a spark.
You are a rock, a touchstone,
And you always leave a mark.

Above me fly.

The boat is slowly moving,
I can feel it drifting.
I don’t know where it’s headed,
But I can feel things shifting.
Only tiny movements,
Not visible to the eye,
But I can feel it still,
As the birds above me fly.
They are passing in their ignorance,
Quick glances as they progress.
I am so very slowly drifting,
But it is not time to press.

That then.

When you see a glimpse,
Of what your future holds,
And you see it will get worse,
As this thing unfolds.  
It stops your heart a moment,
Makes the blood rush to your head,
Puts ants inside your stomach,
And you can’t hear what’s being said.
Take a deep breath, then another one,
Then a deeper one again,
For you cannot stop it happening,
You must just wait until that then.

Place to say.

Is she handling it well,
Or is it all going to pot?
Sometimes I think she can be proud,
But has she really just lost the plot?
Doing her best in circumstances,
She would not have chosen.
Trying to make the best,
Of a life that feels part-frozen.
Is she handling it well?
It depends on the minute, the day,
And truth be told, it really,
Is not my place to say.

Thing to see.

Some days I still hold hope.
I may not believe, but there’s a light.
It’s quivering, shaking,
But there’s something within sight.
They are better days than yesterday’s,
But not the joy they used to be,
Yet any light after darkness,
Is a beautiful thing to see.

Time of fog and smoke.

Knowing there’s so much to do,
But not finding the patience.
Trying to make progress,
In a time that does not make sense.
Trying to find clarity,
In a time of fog and smoke,
All I know is this Momma Bear,
Is not something you should poke.

Time and space.

This is her part hiding.
This is her taking space,
From a life that she must lead,
But sometimes cannot face.
Hers is one of duty,
But one she would not call ‘mine’.
She’s anchoring for others,
Holding to the line.
Clinging on with cramping fingers,
Putting on brave face,
And so sometimes she needs,
A little time and space.

Pressure mounts.

It feels like a turning point.
The smallest one, but something’s there.  
A reminder, an awakening,
A wind blown through the air.
A reminder we’re on unstable ground.
Every action counts.
Holding ground is everything,
When the pressure mounts.