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.