Fractured Female: Survival

THINGS CHANGE

things change
in a day
what was

isn’t

anymore

what could have been
won’t be

anymore

ever

no more possibility

what was unexpected
un-thought of, even

is
just is!
suddenly

things change
for sure
things change
oh, god
how things change

SOMETIMES IT SEEMS

Sometimes it seems
I’ve spent my youth
in ways
I wouldn’t recommend
to anyone–
so much foolishness
in the name of love,
so much wasted
while I looked for
Me.
And Time
would never
wait for me
to catch up.
It played a cruel game
and kept the rules
a secret.
I’ve danced
to many a tune
that had no melody
and sang my heart out
with songs
that had no words.
Sometimes it seemed
too much the effort.
But I prevailed,
somehow I have survived.
Survived…Survived…Survived…
Thank God
for sheer tenacity.

INCERTITUDE

Between the black and white
of other people’s reality
lies the gray uncertainty
of the world that I perceive.
Moments of elusive Truth
evaporate into the atmosphere
while I spend my sleepless
hours sifting through
the subtle shades of difference
searching for a hue
more intense than all the rest.

Between the peace and quiet
of other people’s assuredness
lies my total inability
to zero in on one conclusion
without feeling there’s another choice.
Seeing many points of view
can be subversive and destructive
if it gets out of control.
Surely there’s an absolute,
but how does one decide;
how can one be sure?

A SMALL FRONTIER

I slip quietly into myself
so quietly that no one
even notices I’ve gone
I leave the world behind
to fight the larger wars
while I defend
a small frontier inside

REALLY?

i could have
wished
for more
should have
maybe did

but life
in descending
spirals
disappoints
in
condescending
waves

and we who
stand
on the
brink
of hope

springing
upward
in eternal
thrusts

hang on

DRUNK AGAIN

late at night

awake
like a wino
just in
from a 4-day drunk

eyes wide open
glazed
alert as mush

still trying to
piece together
the patchwork yesterday

matching corners
with meticulous
fumbling

writing a poem
even

lips thirsting
for sleep

the opiate
of the living

AN ORDINARY TRUTH

There are regrets of the moment
with the passage of time that
you spent your life cheaply
and easily instead of touching
the edges of magnificence
but you have known in the vast
expanse of the human condition
a greatness that cannot be
measured by the value of those
who do not understand simplicity.

THE ILLUSION OF FLIGHT

If it was illusion that I loved
And not substantial presence,

Then now has fallen back to earth
Some flight of fantasy that soared
On wings of gossamer and glue
Too close to the sun for lengthy travel.

I think Icharus knew
The futility of such flights
And would testify to the need
To glide at safer heights.

This is my own testimony:
Wingless birds shouldn’t try to fly
But ought to be content to lie
Much closer to the ground.

AFTER THIS LIFE

Now in this languid state I rest
full of who I am.  With this one
life that I was given, this one
body that I have, I must resign

myself to what is and what is not–
there are no other choices to be
made, there are no other lives
available to be lived, no other

bodies to inhabit.  It’s this hair,
this nose, this chin, this skin
that I must endure, this height,
this shape, these feet and hands.

It is who I am and who I am not
that I must recognize, not who I
could have been had there been
another life for me to acquire.

Life is real and life is not real,
depending upon one’s proximity to
sanity but it is this life that I have
and this life alone that I can leave

THE LESSON

In the room the Baby Grand is sitting
A symbol of my desolation
It is capable of chord and discord
Depending upon the master stroke

I have played the piano of my life
On untuned keys
My stubby fingers have stretched
For simple harmony
But hit B flat
Over and over and over again

I am a woman
I am a child
I am my mother
I am a child
Still

In my dreams
Asleep, awake
I see my mother
Stong, silent
Her fragileness a secret well kept
She played the piano quite competently
Her touch was soft
But her music often contained no melody

Once upon a time I took lessons
But could never achieve the art of cordial sound
Rather I wanted to play by ear
Hear the music in my head
And transfer the melody to my fingertips
By magic…

But there is no magic anymore
The magician has taken up a proper craft

I am a child
I am a woman
I am my mother
I am a woman
Now

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