Finding the "Groove" Again

Internet Image, James B. Whiteside, hard edit

“One step forward, two steps back…

Two steps forward, one step back…”

You dance this strange, unconventional dance

trying to find your balance once more

No pirouettes, no jetés—

only petite adagios and tour lents instead;

  —pivoting cautiously—

as pain surveys silently stage-left

anxious to claim the spotlight again.

Eyes forward, back straight

slow and steady—

     stand…hold… rest

     stand…hold… rest

building strength

until each movement becomes rote;

…your accolades acrued in each forward measure.

©  Ginny Brannan

Internet Image, Darek Fidyka, hard edit

Dance terms:

Pirouettes: spins

Jetés: throw the leg, jump with a throw of the leg

Petite “adagios” small slow sustained movements

tour lents: to turn slowly on one leg

Searching for the Silver Lining

The minutes have turned to hours…

days slowly stretch into weeks—

a storm rolled in and took you down

            for a moment, thought you drowned

…still you stood upon storm’s retreat.

Helpless, we watched the skies darken.

Unknowing, observed the clouds swarm.

Without any warning

            the red haze was forming

too quickly to steer from its harm.

How long till the lightening passes,

to assess all the damage that’s done?

Through the wind and the rain

            and the endless pain

we chase the elusive sun.

And I search for the “silver lining”

some sign we’ll return to the norm—

as we wait a bit longer

            while you grow stronger…

          I still cannot see past this storm.

©  Ginny Brannan 2015

Some Assembly Required...

Neap Tide

Image taken by G.Brannan 2006

Somewhere …

between the here and there;

between a rock and a hard place

between midnight and four a.m.

I slip into limbo while you

balance the brink of extinction.

Tied inside this surreal reality

is a game where the winner takes all

or at least gets to walk away.

I navigate the sea of good intentions

bearing the burden of your pain…

and I lay awake at night wondering

if things might ever be ‘normal’ again

© Ginny Brannan 2015

Breathing Lessons

Image: galleryhip.com

I listen to the sound of your breathing,

the rhythmic sound of expansion, contraction—

and try to remember that I must breathe too.

I whisper sweet distractions in your ear

I only hope that you can hear.

Come on and fight—pull yourself free—

rise to the surface, come back to me.

I listen to the sound of your breathing

and try to remember

   that I must breathe,  too

© Ginny Brannan 2015

The Stray

There was a time when she ensconced

inside of youth’s naïveté…

the truth was surely understood—

she ultimately knew the cost,

but she stood strong—ignored the loss.

In her head she chose to see

her life as no one ever would;

she would not be classified

as someone without family

nor circumscribed by childhood.

A family may take many forms,

and blood does not a kinship make:

accepting who a person is—

with love and warmth that isn’t faked,

forms bond that will not break

She showed up at their door one day

never seeking out their help

They spoke awhile among themselves,

and like some lost or homeless stray

they invited her to stay.

© Ginny Brannan 2015

April Showers

Image by R.A.D. Stainforth

We step out softly to the night

our footfalls sharp upon the stone

the dampness chills us to the bone

we turn our collars to the bite.

Our voices break against the drone

of rhythmic rainfalls' steady beat,

we sidestep puddles in the street

while slowly making way through town.

Felt on the breeze, a tease of warmth

we hope will loosen winter’s grasp,

it calls the colors to unmask…

for in the showers, spring is born.

And walking village streets in rain,

we embrace the season’s change.

 ©  Ginny Brannan 2015

Sharing for Magpie Tales #263. Image provided by Tess Kincaid.