And Yet

And yet, you choose to defend
With blind eyes and closed ears
Ignoring your Truth.

Hope seeps through your fractured heart.
Slowed evermore by Should, like
Sand, those tiny glistening bits of quartz,
clogging all sense
Of self.

Drawing a line between protecting and sacrificing,
Your search is endless and meaningless.
Blanketed by Ought, and held out of reach
By your own hand.

Extending forever outward in all directions
Never to realize
Nor to accept
Each dream, each desire stems from within.

| CLOSE | SAND | DEFEND | STEM | LINE |

-Weekly Writing Challenge #163 Poetry from the secret keeper

I’m very excited to share my article published this morning with A Fine Parent, parenting blog, focusing on becoming better versions of ourselves as parents. I’ve loved working with them and being a part of their mission.

You can find my article here:

How To Free Your Inner Zen Master When Parenting is Hard

I hope you like it!

Sitting With The Sad Few

white ines and asphalt in car park

I spend a lot of time in parking lots
not avoiding
but really most likely
avoiding

I spend a lot of time
in empty lots
early in the morning

save for the sad few that
park and sit and wait

wait for clarity
wait for decision
wait for answers

vast empty spaces
have no answers
bulldozed and covered in an layer of asphalt
they only offer a place to sit

a place to wait
a place for nothing
a place to observe the emptiness

even when they’re full
sitting with the sad few
we park on opposite ends

avoid eye contact
avoid each other
avoid acknowledging that we’ve gathered
separately
together

to be sad

Not Quite Shards

Cracked pane,
lightning splintering jagged
edge to edge

Not quite shards,
Plates hold
Balanced

New space created
One to many
Delicate footing

Held fast
With hope and
Sheer will

Not quite shards,
Rumbling trucks pass by
Rattle the smallest piece

Loose
A glinting shower
Of dreams

All shards now
And an empty
Pane

Willow

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It seems our agreement shifted. And if I wanted to I would. If I believed anything other than the past would repeat itself, I’d behave differently. If I had it in me, I’d be right back on board. But,

I don’t have it in me. I don’t believe anything other than the past will repeat itself. In my deepest depths, recesses of my heart and mind, all my hidden coves, I know that nothing will change. I know that I will go through this over and over until I’m completely destroyed. Angry. Hateful. Resentful. Incapable.

And that’s not who I want to be. Not who I am. Not a person I’m willing to become.

I believe in goodness, in love. I believe in awareness, in knowing when you’re done, in trusting to know when we’ve reached an impasse.

It’s not that your aren’t worth it. You are my greatest love. You are everything I hoped and ever wanted. You are a kaleidoscope.

But I have scar tissue built up around my ability to go back. It’s marbled, knobby, held fast. I can see no, feel no, believe no other way.

The distance stretched too far this time. My heart is hardened. My hope proved insufficient. Asking for work, effort, belief, is out of the question. I’m tired. And I can’t.

I won’t.

A Measure of Weakness

Weakness exists in the mind of the slighted. You’re weak
In the mind of the one who cannot own. I was weak
Weakness, the idea of it, is an excuse. Protection against truth, honesty, ownership.
Weakness exists in heart of the broken. I am weak
In the heart of the lost. They were weak
Weakness, the idea of it, is a comfort. A barrier against pain, reality, ownership.
Weakness exists in the breath of the disillusioned. Crushed, forced from them until the final wisps trail out
Along paths worn deep.
And Empty.