Monday, August 30, 2021

We Don't Talk About It


We choose our words so carefully

afraid to give too much away;

deciding just what to reveal

but never saying what we feel.

We dance across each other’s thoughts

while masking our inadequacies

one step forward two steps back,

must rein emotion skillfully.

We always choose the safest route,

to shield ourselves from being broken

and when we’re unsure who to blame

 just blame it on the words unspoken.


© Ginny Brannan 2021

Friday, August 27, 2021

Just Below the Surface...


When someone screams

“You don’t know what it’s like,”

their pointed words, sharp and honed

their venom cutting to  the bone­–

what gives them freedom to assume?

What is it they hope to gain?

The players change, but pain’s the same…

and is your path so different than my own?

Don’t visit retribution on the stranger

don’t assume you know what they’ve been through

we cannot fix what’s broken by our anger,

or putting out our trials for review—

as tear escapes despite attempts to hide it

it’s because we’re broken, just like you

©Ginny Brannan 2021

Image: Google Images, Shutter Stock, Oil Painting

Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Past Participles


The past is in the past

we never have looked back

our lives already cast—

but in the quietude

when I can’t fall asleep

I recall a time 

from that place where memories steep.

Under this fa├žade, 

where all is status quo

sometimes I have pondered;

—but things are what they are

and what was meant to be

has already unfolded.

O, how we skirt our truth

when speaking of our youth,

it’s better not to say…

 when words diminish memories

    and just get in the way


© Ginny Brannan 2021

Saturday, August 21, 2021

In the Rough


Would that you knew me

who I actually am, and

not some misguided notion

of who you perceive me to be…

Would that you knew

the inner workings of my mind,

all the cuts and mars that line my soul.

Would you find me intriguing

…or just a fool in kind?

         I’d like to believe the years 

have polished this once rough stone,

smoothed its edges, honed its patina—

I think I’ve come into my own.

We grow from the light that shines upon us

we change to become who we need to be

and what we endure either reforms or break us

we can rise from the depths, or drown in the sea.

The scars that we carry do not define us

our passions, our fury, comes from within;

and each hit we take that is meant to collapse us

invokes reason to stand in defiance again.

 I’ve seen what you’re made of, the darkness you carry

but also the light you have hidden inside

and accept you’ve been places that I haven’t travelled

through the stories you’ve shared or what you’ve implied.

Would that you knew what I carried inside me,

would you pull back in horror from what you had seen?

Or accept who I am— in whole or in pieces—

knowing full well we are more than we seem

or leave without knowing what lies in the shadows

    and nary a clue to what might have been.

© Ginny Brannan 2021

Sunday, August 1, 2021

What's Left Unsaid...


Photo by C. Parant Appetite for Photos "Watercolors"

How often we have said hello

during times when things are status quo

and every day blends into one;

it’s during those times that seem mundane

the times when everything’s the same

we banter over little things,

maybe share a laugh or two

parade our memories for review;

these moments somehow keep us sane.

And on the days with clouds and rain

when there isn’t much to say,

when the wind picks up the waves

and threatens us with hurricane

and world takes on an ugly hue…

you’ve talked me through the hurt I feel

lifted me beyond the pain

to set me on my course again.

And when there’s nothing left to add

when the words have petered out

and it’s time we bid adieu,

I will tell you to ‘take care’

it means exactly as it sounds

stay safe, be well, you’re part of me

and I am here and I’m your friend…

and so much more that isn’t said.

It stems from that place deep within

where friendship and where love abide

camaraderie between two friends

 rolling with the wind and tide


© Ginny Brannan 2021