Compositions

The Lady In The Black Coat

Her walking sway caught my attention as my car approached, traveling from the opposite direction.

From across the way, I could see that she was special as she shambled along in her dark, full length coat while carrying a twisted-top, several layers thick plastic grocery bag in each hand.

After walking several feet, she’d put one down, exhausted but determined, and suddenly swing around to behind her.

It seemed she was looking for sign of help, and I felt drawn toward her as if she were important.

After I had passed and turned to the street leading to the gym,, I backtracked to find her again, pulling up and over to ask what ailed her.

She told me she needed to get to a town almost an hour away, and that she remembered the way from so many years before.

I asked if i could get her to a better location where she might find a ride that could take her.

She considered a moment, perplexed in her aged and regal wisdom.

“No, i need to stay on this road. Thanks for the thought,” she countered.

Worrying about her and the reasons for her flushed-from-cover journeying, I realized as I drove away that my offer restored her dignity by giving her the option to reject it.

Poetic Musings

“Charged”

Blocked and denied the golden line of ‘Straight and Narrow,” a tear rolls down her cheek at the crossroads.

“Construction” zones have blocked all exits to promised tomorrows, and to continue around and further requires more divergence.

Is it better to go down the paths forced and grow to retain new, wisely encompassing dignity while altering identity?

Or is it better to get out of the car and forge through cutting brambles, to arrive at promised “Heaven” – raving from effort, and bleeding?

(Title has multiple meanings)

Compositions

Gaunt

I remember that though I was tired, for the first few years after “The Fall,” I still had resilient reserves which I worked to capitalize on.

You can see it in my profile picture – the layer of stored optimism as a roundness to my visage.

Five years later of increasingly hard grind and disappointments’ “failures” have thinned buffer.

The Crone has been feasting at my expense and sucking with glee – her teeth clenched over bone as she leers while sucking on its marrow.

How does one recover from loss of reserves without money or backup resources?

How does one keep from exploding in pent up, vexed rage when arriving to embittered outcome?

The topic of “forgiveness” has always been irksome because “consent” was never an option.