Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Our Lady of the Ashes













I gazed upon the scene, surreal,
  a theater of the absurd,
and wondered deep within this heart
  How could such thing occur?
I watched her cry through stained glass eyes
  as ash and soot rained down,
yet in the nave where fire raged
  the angels stood their ground.
And in the streets the voices rose
  avowed their love for thee,
and from the ash, a spark of hope,
  against such tragedy.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

My heart was heavy watching the scene unfold in Paris on Monday 4/15/19. And yet even as she burned, in the streets Ave Maria could be heard as local Parisians lifted their voices. A spark; a glimmer that she will rise again from the ashes. Besides, we all know that you can't keep a good woman down.

Monday, April 15, 2019

Eyes on the Prize














We don’t know where we’ll be from one moment to the next,
even on the best of days the worse can happen.
We are in this game together,.
We tag-team each other.
No matter what we’re dealt,
we go for the win.
I have no 'poker face,' but
I still play a pretty damn good game.
Our ultimate goal, always–
 to get to the end without folding.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Obvious metaphor, needs work, but where my head's at today.


Sunday, April 14, 2019

Theorizing the Atlas Curse



I’ve had enough of this endless curse,
the highs, the lows, the stop and goes—
it slows for a moment and speeds up again;
can’t seem to cut a break, can’t seem to win.
Like Atlas,  are we condemned  to carry 
the weight of the world on our shoulders
through all of  eternity?

In theory, there is no rest for the weary

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Saturday, April 13, 2019

Awake at 4 a.m.

I wake up at 4 a.m., no hope of falling back asleep
and the film in my head is already
running the odds and worse case scenarios.
Just can’t get away from them.
And I pray for the surgeon's steady hand,
 and I pray you’ll be whole again—
Does God even hear the prayers of fools and sinners?
So many dreams and hopes
colliding with so many unknowns...

I know you’re strong—
I just hope I can be strong enough now
for the both of us.

© GB 2019




Wearing my heart on my sleeve today...

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

No Excuses



I’m sorry I was late today,
I really don’t know what to say.
Could blame the traffic or the clock
—but that would be a bunch of crock.

The sky dawned bright, for once, not gray
I’m sorry I was late today—
a moment in that April air
prompted me to tarry there.

I stopped to gaze upon the trees,
and ponder possibilities…
I’m sorry I was late today
the new spring blooms got in the way.

I’ll plead the 5th and then recuse,
(there really is no good excuse)
I’d rather stay outside and play…
…  I’m sorry I was late today

© Ginny Brannan 2019

From a suggested prompt from a previous year for NaPoWriMo: to write an apology. The format is called a Quatern.

Tuesday, April 9, 2019

...But First, Coffee












The yard calls to me…
“You need to finish raking!” it says.
There is a sink full of dirty dishes—
like magic they’ve appeared overnight.
Am pretty sure they belong to the two trolls
that live in our basement—
the “mole people,” as we fondly call them:
working nights, they come up from the depths,
blinking sleep-filled eyes against the light of day.
Two loads of wash sit sorted in the corner ready to go
  and I don’t yet know what I’m making for supper.
Psyching myself to take on the world
        …but first, coffee!

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Monday, April 8, 2019

Circlin' the Drain













We don’t know when we’ll pay our dues
but we all have to check out sometime.
Death is a fact of life,
and these eyes have seen too many
'facts' already for this lifetime.
At what point is enough enough?
How many more circles ‘round the sun are left?
I guess that’s between the good Lord and me,
or perhaps the devil on any given day.
I’m still here, and until I start ‘circling the drain’
I’m not plannin’ on goin’ anywhere too soon.
Hear that, ya vultures?

Hopin’ my next home likes ‘em sassy, ‘cuz I aint ‘bout to change now!

© Ginny Brannan 2019


Checked out the Day 8 Challenge for NaPoWriMo that suggested using a slang term as metaphor from one of several professions. I chose my “profession”  sort of loosely, (medical as I am support staff for skilled nursing) and the slang term “CTD”  “circling the drain”, a ‘metaphor’ for actively dying. It works.

Image: Pinta Dora