No Rest for the Weary

It was a temporary patch for a permanent problem

a feel good stopgap to get you through the night;

a chance to erase the chaotic thoughts that chase,

a moment of relief from the pain of life.

 

It was a temporary fix for a permanent problem

an illusion of calm to make the hurt go away­

how quick adapts the brain that wants to shed the pain,

but faster yet the panic on instant “replay.”

 

It was a temporary patch for a permanent problem

but there are no easy fixes to get you through the day;

there is no remand, no short path to understanding

and nothing can amend what you try to belay

 

It was a temporary fix for a permanent problem

why offer it at all when it can’t really expel?

No ready relief for the heart that grieves,

no rest for the weary as they face their hell.

 

There’s no temporary fix for this permanent problem

suck it up and steel yourself, you’re in it for the haul

there are no magic pills to help you with your ills

as you muddle through the madness, and another night falls.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

Just Another Bleeding Heart

I bear this weight, this ball and chain

impedes each step with unchecked pain.

The new day dawns yet clouds draw near

reminding me that you're not here.

 

I try to lift my thoughts, in vain

weighted down by ball and chain-

pretending that I’ll be okay

when my whole life's in disarray.

 

"One day at a time," I'm told,

and as another day unfolds

I try to break free from this chain

but sink where memories remain.

 

The wound’s still raw, it doesn’t heal.

I cannot think, I only feel.

my heart lies bleeding in the rain

my cross to bear, this ball and chain.

© Ginny Brannan 2021

Channeling Scarlett

 

Faith is believing in something that we cannot see.

We turn to God in our darkest hours–

to what end?

We ask for healing,

when healing doesn’t come,

we ask for strength. 

I listen for an answer I cannot hear

knowing that ‘No’ is an answer, too.

One foot in front of the other, my friend,

God helps those who help themselves.

The sun will come out tomorrow

after all “Tomorrow is another day.”

Ah, Scarlett, you always landed on your feet.

  Maybe I will, too.

© Ginny Brannan 2021

 

Riding the Waves

Now I know now why you did what you did­–

drowning your sorrow one shot at a time,

escaping what your heart couldn’t bear;

masking the truth for just a while longer,

– another drink for the pain and the loss

because anything is better than feeling.

Oh, that it would make a difference…

But I am not you;

we can’t hide from the hand that we’re dealt.

I believe the only way past something

is to go through it.

Riding the waves

But I finally understand why

 you did what you did

—because anything is better than feeling

© Ginny Brannan 2021

This refers back to the memories of my dad. Back in the day of my parents, the loss of someone dear was to be surrounded by well-meaning family and friends and a round (or two or three) of drinks to drown one's sorrow. This was brought to mind, because even though I was oh, so young,  I remember watching my dad going through the loss of my mom. I understand the "why" now, but also know there is no escape, only postponement. Doing my best to deal here, to heal here.

Bearing Witness...

Even as you walked your path, 

between this world and the next

you still thought of others.

You gave us an incredible gift, 

bearing the choice 

so we wouldn’t have to.

You, you were always our gift…

and so we send you home to wait for us

and carry you now and always in our hearts.

© Ginny Brannan 2021

One Day at a Time...

I sit in a vacuum unable to breathe

unable to hold you, to be at your side

not even a glimmer of what lies ahead

I cannot find solace, I can’t find reprieve

while waiting to see just what fate will decide.

 

I can’t seem to get all these thoughts to subside—

you’re not here to hold me, to say “It’s okay.”

They race like a freight train to some unknown stop;

I’ve chosen these strangers with which to confide,

as I struggle to keep all the demons at bay.

 

The world’s upside down, in complete disarray

holding tight to each message, each small ray of hope

white-knuckled, not knowing what will come next.

There’s too many outside forces at play,

I’m treading water,  yet barely afloat.

 

Where will we land? No one can say…

just trying to hold onto one. more. day.

Image by Charlie Parant at Appetite For Photos. Used only with express written permission.

 

Uncharted

 

My heart lies torn and bleeding,

my body, disemboweled;

my compass no longer points ‘true north.’

I cannot see over the rise ahead

to know what comes next.

You lie there fighting battles we cannot see,

and we are helpless but to watch.

When all else fails, we pray

searching for answers yet to come

functioning on auto-pilot

as we hang on any news.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

 

*Image by author

Flotsam and Jetsam

 

I hold you on the dark side of my heart

that secret place that no one else can see,

drifting with the flotsam and the jetsam

well-hidden in the wreckage and debris.

You and I ill-fated from the start­–

infecting me like some sort of disease

drawn and quartered, then hung out to dry

so different from the outcome I’d perceived.

Yet when the twilight swallows up the day

in the silent midnights we accrue,

pondering the follies of our youth

in that darkness lives a shred of truth…

hiding there where no one else can see

  ever you’ve remained a part of me.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

A sonnet, or "something" like it...

NaPoWriMo 2021

But Only If

 

It grows like a cancer 

the darkness keeps spreading

meme by meme, 

thread by thread—

infecting the masses

impeding their values

while passing appraisals

through lies they’ve been fed.

The commandment was given

to love one another

the words of the Prophet

by which we atone.

He walked with the sinners

He spoke to the masses

He never passed judgment

this rage and resentment

  He’d never condone.

There are no exceptions

no hidden clauses

no “just if you’re white

or not gay or not trans”

How narrow the mind

of the self-righteous critic

who swallows in ignorance

what he won’t understand?

Are we being tested

to show our true colors?

I carry a rainbow

your choice is your own.

And I will remember

the voice of the Prophet

whose words and example

become my touchstone.

© Ginny Brannan 2021

 

Some things are not a choice, we are who we are.  Acceptance is a gift that we can give to others, that we receive from others. May we all be accepted and loved.

*Matthew 22:36-40, John 13:34

NaPoWriMo 2021: An Invitation!

April has landed, the timing is nigh

thirty in thirty, or so we avow;

we sit at our keyboard inspired to write

while hoping our muses will guide us somehow.

Prompted by words or an image or two,

pouring our hearts out in thought and in deed

sharing our secrets, it’s what poets do…

where even the tiniest thought plants a seed.

Free verse or format, now which will it be?

Deliver the goods, perfect spelling be damned!

Get the words down on paper for you all to read

and later, revisions or needed revamps.

April has started, no time to concede!

The poets come out of the woodwork to play:

we rip out our hearts, in black ink we bleed—

insightful, delightful, you really should stay!

 

© Ginny Brannan 2021

 

April is NaPoWriMo: National Poetry Writing Month.  The challenge? To write 30 poems in 30 days. While some writers are dedicated and diligent, others (like me) may lag a bit behind. No matter!! Please read, follow, and enjoy the ride!