In Dreams

 

Implausible, or so it seems

but real or not, can you conceive

the truth that hides inside our dreams?

Where deep within such altered state

the past and present interweave.

and hidden secrets come to light
in rhythmic breathing of the night;

and all the things we dare not say

slip the confines of the day

to acquiesce. reshape, refine

and coalesce inside our mind.

Somewhere in this tug of war,

the soul cries out for want of more:

the long forgotten touch of skin

the ardor hidden in a look

a thirst, found quenched in our rapport,

the heat exploding from within,

new worlds to map, and to explore–

for now we tread this in-between

 and bide our time inside a dream.

© Ginny Brannan 2026

A Crack in Everything

 

I hold my breath and wait for change

but nothing is forthcoming yet...

all those days and yesteryears

all the things that brought us here,

all that warmth has disappeared.

and I‘m left holding empty dreams.

Perhaps its age that makes it so–

the distant sounds of a life once full,

of home, of family being built...

I’ve watched it all come pouring down

 like rain upon the windowsill.

Stuck inside a world of gray

all life’s color washed away...

this countenance that I display

hides a heart in disarray.

The dissonance between what’s real

and what I choose for you to see—

the remnants of my dignity

protected under lock and seal.

I seek the crack that holds the light

the answers to this inner plight...

as yet, have found no resolution

 for one so lost and disillusioned.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2025

 

“There is a crack, a crack in everything
 That's how the light gets in”

Leonard Cohen “Anthem

Festering

 

You’re caught up in all of the stories you’re told

you watch every day as the falsehoods unfold

there’s no turning back and you will not concede

must stick to the plan now, there is no retreat

 

The barrage of deceit is your one recompense

streamed on a loop that doesn’t make sense

while you share fabrications you barely believe,

to admit you are wrong would accede to defeat

 

Contradictions and "fictions" mount by the score;

each new day bringing dozens more–

your mind’s lost in some kind of atrophy

while you wallow in ignorance, blissfully

 

And you can’t give it up and you won’t give in

to deny your support is a brazen sin

submerging yourself in hypocrisy

while trading out kindness for bigotry.

 

So we march to a place we did not foresee

full of unrestrained hate and brutality

fraught in our fears and uncertainty

inside this contentious reality.

 

How does one admit that the trail they chose

is tainted, as slowly their souls decompose

in a casket of misplaced morality

decaying inside of their own piety

 

© Ginny Brannan 2024

All the Paths We Do Not Choose

Happiness is not a given, it is a choice.

We all carry the weight of our years,

the ache of our losses and so many tears.

We can wallow there, condemning

others for our lot. Curse the ones who

got us here, the children who’ve forgotten us,

the bosses who have fired us, and all the

things we’re not.  We can flounder in oblivion

drink till we pass out; pop pills, shoot up

and waste away, really, who can blame us? 

Harder still to face the day when every day

it’s raining. When you take to heart what

others say and wish you could contain them.

I’ve always thought the best revenge is to 

live the life we’re meant to, for even at

our very worse, feeling empty, feeling cursed

when we think we won’t get through, 

we still can find potential.

Just reflect on where we’ve been and the fact 

that we’re still standing, despite

the threats to take us down 

and the demons we’re combating.

There is a strength inside of us, we 

only have to find it. But it’s up to us to come 

to terms, and put our past behind us.

 

One minute, one hour, one day at a time.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

 

 

Be the Fire

 

When your gleam has lost its shine

as you wander through the dark

and you cannot seem to find

a bit of kindling for your spark,

I’ll meet you in your twilight space

I’ll join you in that darkened realm

and find the embers that you hide

not gone, but just obscured inside

and stir the light that brings you home.

 

And when you find that I’m burnt out

can’t see the sunlight for the rain

stumbling through a cloud of doubt

where all my efforts are in vain,

you drive away the seeds of fear

remind me that I’m not alone

and in the dankness of such days

you are the match that sets the blaze

to light my way on paths unknown.

 

Each of us has gotten lost

inside the vacuum of our souls

where everything exacts a cost

and leaves us aimless in our roles.

No matter what this life ingrains

nothing ever stays the same,

we're at the mercy of the tender

who searches ash for dying ember

to rouse the cinders that remain

so once more we can be the flame.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Empty Souls and Rabbit Holes

 

I wanted to compose a poem from

this collection of thoughts that rattle

like ghosts inside my brain. Something worthy

and profound. But they won’t organize

into any kind of order, so I compensate

and collect myself instead; keeping 

busy because physical exhaustion is 

so much better than mental anguish 

any day of the week, and “twice on Sunday."

Alice trips on her sadness and slips 

                                                                       d

                                                                          o

                                                                            w

                                                                                n

 the rabbit hole to escape for awhile.

The Hatter’s gone MAD and there’s not

enough tea in the pot to calm the tempest, 

but it passes quickly.  She shrunk for a moment, 

but now she’s grown. She climbs back to reality.

The fantasies have dissipated; the dreams fade

as they often do.  I have read our days

are numbered, and some are meant to walk 

alone; we mark our time inside these pages

where grief and happiness are one.

 

Ginny Brannan 2023

Image: John Tenniel, artist 

 

Perhaps You Didn't Notice

 

I feel like I am myself again,

but really, what does that mean?

Aren’t we all ourselves,  all of the time?

So I should say “I’m back to my usual 

state of normalcy.”  I’m back to being me.

For a little while I was in a different place

a darker space,  somewhere inside a well

no rope ladder, each day the same

not good or bad; they just were.

Anxiety ruled: the overwhelming

sense of being alone.  How could I

start again? How would I survive?

So I parodied all the right motions

doing the things that must be done

all the routine and mundane

I guess that’s called “survival mode.”

I can almost put my finger on the exact moment

when the skies cleared, the fog disappeared.

No, I do not dwell in the dark places, the

empty spaces, but for a time I was a guest there.

Sometimes we get lost for awhile, inside the

loss that we carry. We talk the talk and 

walk the walk, and paint ourselves into a better place

knowing that we aren’t there yet; wondering

if we ever will be. Oh, I have seen this place before,

this empty well without a rope. Life chews us up

and spits us out,  and we can either sink or swim 

But to stay afloat, now that’s the challenge isn’t it? 

Perhaps you didn’t notice I was gone—so practiced 

in the art of the façade. And while I can’t explain just 

where I’ve been, I’m happy just to be myself again.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

My tipping point came in February, where I no longer felt that I was just "functioning" but was actually happy and excited about doing things again, about life again. Don't feel bad if you didn't notice. It means I did a good job covering. Some things are too personal to share until they're over. See that picture in the upper left corner of this blog? That was February.

Caught in a Landslide, No Escape....

 

In the early hours,  where 

reality and fantasy meet as one,  

and imagination has free rein,

I think not of what is, but what could be.

We really aren’t so different, 

we’ve seen more than our share;

and so we  throw up walls 

for our protection.  But I feel them

closing in on me inside this empty tomb

keeping me from any real connection.

And it’s been so long that I’ve forgotten

everything I know,  yet another

reason to forestall; and that the first rule 

of communication is just to say “hello.”

Would it be a start? Or our downfall?
                 ~~~~~~~~~

So in the early morning light I play the “what if” game,

~and wonder of the chances that you have done the same?

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Limbo

Lost in this space in-between…

inert and adrift in illusion

mind numb, bereft of emotion––

beleaguered with dreams best forgotten

opining the wish for redemption.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

IF I only had a ....

 

 

…And now I am the ‘Tin Man’

a rusting carapace of my former self

        seeking redemption

through a love that eludes me

  as time ticks ever forward  

        inside the hollows

        of this empty shell.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

**Image borrowed from and full credit given to the artwork of Greg Hildebrandt. He and his twin brother, Tim,  are well-known artists in the fantasy art world, . Their illustrations have illuminated The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Favorite Fairy Tales, and the original Star Wars poster, to name a sampling of their work.  

Demons in Plain Sight

We don’t admit our weaknesses to strangers

they’re not the type of things that we’d confess—

the ghosts and phantoms lingering from childhood

the far and distant memories repressed.

 

We cannot see the ways such things affect us

stuck here within the confines of our shells,

nor all the pain that we inflict on others

while we are so caught up inside ourselves.

 

Like a vampire promising conversion,

seductively they lure us in their ruse—

convincing that we’re special and we’re different

holding sway while they pervert the truth.

 

Some are strong enough to fight the hunger,

to face head-on the dark side of their soul

while others ruminate and stew in silence

till like the snake, their demons swallow whole.

 

How sad for those who can’t read the deception,

who do not recognize till it’s too late…

their loved ones watch them drown in hurt and anger

till all that’s left before them is a stranger–

martyred by the fate that they create..

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

"Loneliness" Without a Name

 

The empty hours steal the day

as we attempt to seek distraction

a temporary get away

in quietude and conversation­—

and though we have but naught to say.

and though our stories rarely change

peace is found repetition.

Across the lines, we borrow time

diversion from this hill we climb;

another day, the same refrain

unsure just what we hope to gain,

perhaps we’re looking for the same…

searching for an intervention

 for loneliness without a name

 

 

© Ginny Brannan 2022

What's Behind the Curtain

We are bigger than this, better than this...

this image that stares back at us

is not who we are

nor who we want to be

—it is not me.

There's no place for the constant lies,

the blatent impropriety.

I won’t disguise my own disgust.

It’s sad we can’t instill our trust,

when we’re repulsed by what we see;

    – this isn’t me.

If nothing else we've been exposed

to the dark side of society:

the ignorance, unfettered hate;

the blatant disregard, the blame–

for some it’s only just a game
to shore up their hypocrisy 

  ...this isn’t me

While children sleep in concrete stalls

on the border in our keep;

and politicians fight their fight

to salvage our democracy,

this helplessness morphs to disease

a place where no one is appeased...

some alternate reality—

    This isn’t me.

And so I've shared a thought or two:

but words are words; when all is done

will our values be intact?

Or will the profligate have won?
We each make choices, you and I

but all the rhetoric is lost

when we can see the final cost.

Will you sacrifice your soul,

     morality and decency?
Or will it stay intact and whole?

 How many of you will agree...

     This isn’t me!

© Ginny Brannan 2019

Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.

In the Interim

I’m still here, reading between the lines—

pondering all hopes and dreams,

while stuck in these confines;

fearing what’s unknown to me

and what is yet to be—

the many things that march on by

and what I hope to see.

Oh!  All those hours that I’ve spent, 

trying to get from here to there…

waiting for the sun to break,

the storm to pass, the clouds to part

I wallow in this in-between

stuck in this empty shell…

grappling for stability,

I live my life vicariously,

in this limbo I'm assigned—

 observing others pass on by,

  I read between the lines.

© Ginny Brannan 2019

The Dark Side

Can we judge the life of another

when we don’t know the demons within

the highs and lows and daily struggles

or a need for their darkness end?

To be surrounded, yet feel alone

when nothing is going as planned

when it’s so hard to voice the pain that you have

feeling useless and not worth a damn.

The temptress sings her siren song

awakens the demons within…

I’ve glimpsed into the dark abyss

while tiptoeing on the rim.

Today another left this world

the dark side made its claim

and all the folks he’s never met

are mentioning his name.

A sad and senseless tragedy

there’s no free pass with fame

so difficult to understand,

when no one thing’s to blame.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

When there are so many shades of black and gray

sometimes we can’t tell the clouds from the night.

And there are times when you know that people love you, 

but they just don’t seem to understand.

Sometime it’s only a word or a call;  a note,

a comment that makes all the difference.
“I 'd notice”was my lifeline—two little words,

a simple reminder when I needed it most

that someone was out there and listening to me.

I only danced with the darkness; for so many it is a daily struggle

bigger than anything that most of us will ever understand…

If you feel weighted down, that you are sinking

and have nowhere to turn, talk to someone
if you can’t talk to a friend call 1-800-273-8255.

Hoping that all who struggle with depression and their ‘dark side’ will find peace.