Metaphorically Speaking

Life is a series of relationships—

personal, casual, professional...

some filled with anticipation,

others reeking of ambivalence.

I swore I’d never again become enrapt

captivated by another…

the pain of loss is too great,

it weighs heavy and lives in half-lifes

slowly fading; never quite dissipating.

I don’t know when the change came—

when you went from being just a means to an end

to a necessary part of the whole—

but here I am again.

While another holds the strings

I go on, ignoring the voice

that nags inside my gut

while waiting to learn 

if

the

cord

has

been

cut.

© Ginny Brannan 2017

In the Stillness of the Night

Late winter’s eve and all is still

the lawn lies bathed in silver light—

gray shadows race across the yard

and climb atop the windowsill

to draw my gaze upon the sight.

I stare out to the moonlit night,

across the deck and wooded path

fresh–painted by new fallen snow.

The scene infuses with delight;

this gift inside storm’s aftermath.

Half–buried now, the old birdbath

stands shadowed deep in indigo—

it waits on promise of the spring

when arctic chill has finally passed

and snow gives way to new green grass.

With gratitude, I hedge to go;

tranquility allays my soul…

I turn and feel the warmth within

still basking in the afterglow

of winter’s calm and still repose.

©  Ginny Brannan 2017

When life becomes rote, and frustration grows from being immersed in the same routine—different day, sometimes we need to remind ourselves that peace is still there—within our grasp— if we just take a moment to pause and  enjoy the  stillness and beauty around us.

Karma

You wear your attitude like a shield—

like a force field it surrounds you

emanating in the shift of your shoulders

the curl of your lip

the furrow of your brow,

exuding from your pores as you gorge

on the hurt and pain you leave in your wake.

Unhappiness is your cancer;

anger your disease.

So build your walls of brick and stone,

   wattle and bone—

I’ll hold my tongue while you dangle your bait,

knowing that fate eventually comes around…

and those who concede to hostility and hate

   die alone.

© Ginny Brannan 2017