100 Days of Poetry: Days 76-80

Living

“I am not always very attached to being alive”
So began the article on suicide
The statement resonates
Strongly, I admit
But suicidal?
I have rarely felt suicidal
And never deeply enough to act
Is it necessary to love life every second?
To drink in every day with gusto?
Because sometimes, hope tiptoes out of reach
Sometimes, disappointment overwhelms
Sometimes, the endless list of expectations
(Usually self-imposed)
Wearies me to the bone
Ennui
Sheer boredom
The conviction that nothing
Absolutely nothing
Will change
Some days, I simply cannot abide the certainty of mediocrity
Or worse
The fear of decline
Of invisibility
On the worst of those days, death appeals
The last great adventure
A release

Reason always pulls me back to safety
That, and pride
I desire to stride boldly into the next life
Strong, battle-scarred and triumphant
Head high
And so I live
Not always because I feel attached to being alive

Rest

Tired, suddenly
Wanting nothing more than a quiet corner
A warm blanket
And leisure to close my eyes
Near society, but not part of it
Rest, without the intrusion of guilt over tasks undone
A soothing background of ticking clocks
Soft afternoon light through the window
The hum of a refrigerator
Melodies at the piano
And the rattle of pans as someone else makes dinner

A peace akin to gazing at stars on a summer night
Reading Jane Austen for the twentieth time
(Satisfied, as always, by the perfect ending)
Or savoring those first bites of newly baked bread, dripping with butter
I'm not sure what "rest" truly means in the heavenly sense
But I dearly hope that heaven includes cozy blankets
Quiet background melodies
Endless stars
And warm bread
With perfect endings and promising beginnings
All rolled into one glorious eternity

Ditching the Comfort Zone

Tiny leaps of faith
Sometimes, just quitting the bed
Starting a new day

Dialing a stranger
Collecting stories for blogs
Seeking shrewd questions

Sharing affection
Tentative, will he respond?
Loving anyway

Crafting a poem
Starting blind, ending unknown
Watching thoughts unfold

Steps into the dark
Seeking fulfillment

Ink

Birds in flight
Soaring over the collarbone and off my shoulder
Wings graceful and powerful
I can envision the tattoo
Enjoy the anticipation of rebellion
Already feel the reminder of freedom just beneath the fabric of my blouse
My little escape when obligations weigh me down
And trees obscure the horizon
A reminder that I can rise above the branches
And fly toward the sun

Palm Sunday

Dusty festival crowds
Noisily cheered a king
Only to condemn Him as loudly within days
Disciples walked away
"Friend," the King said to Judas
"Wherefore art thou come?"
That terrible kiss killed both men
Peter followed, though
Denied knowing Him, yes
But still, he stayed
Women, too, followed the slow path to Calvary
Simon shared the burden of the cross when Jesus stumbled
Mary stood at His feet
A sword piercing her own soul
As it pierced the side of her dead son
The Magdalene wept outside an empty tomb
Pleaded with the gardener
"If thou have borne him hence..."
"Mary"
Gentle
Loving
That voice
Impossible
But the heart knew
"Rabboni"
Master
And the sun rose on Easter morning