In Case You Didn't Know

Your thoughts transposed upon a page

have pulled me from the deepest dark

providing footlights on a path

littered with worst-case infractions.

In hopeless moment, one small spark,

an impromptu and random action…

you can’t conceive just what it meant

to lose myself for briefest time

within that transient distraction.

A beacon on a moonless night,

a lifeboat on a bitter sea—

I've focused on your ambient light

how many times it's rescued me.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

For my friend on the other side of the mountain, thank you for “harrowing the words.”  And to all whose words have provided an escape when hope has wavered somewhere between staying on an even-keel and wallowing in the pit of despair. Words transport us, written or spoken, and often save us when we need it most.

Into the Vortex

I spend my days barely afloat

awash in darkness and debris,

circling a shallow moat

a tiny raft on tempest sea.

I walk along the knife blade’s edge

one wrong step can take me down

balancing along the ledge

it’s hard to keep to solid ground

Another day of status quo.

another day under the gun;

another day I can’t forego,

another day I’ve not succumbed.

It’s not my nature to make waves,

in silence, I let things accrue.

But to what end? I cannot stave

a tempest so long overdue.

The keel has broken from this boat,

and wind and storm may shred her sail—

yet no one really knows the scope

or fathoms if the ship has failed.

Sucked into the maelstrom's eye

they‘ll never say she didn’t try.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Bobbing for Apples

Ever so quickly now, darkness falls,

along with leaves from yonder oak:

they skitter down the quiet street.

piling up against the poles

and blanketing the shrubs and grass.

Caught on the wind, the smell of smoke,

of wood fires warding off the chill

announcing colder days ahead

as jack-o’lanterns still evoke

sweet memories of childhood past.

Shhhh, quiet! You can hear them still—

those laughing children in disguise,

bobbing for apples, playing games...

their trick or treat bags overflow

held close in the images I've amassed.

While we immerse in warm repast

reminiscing upon our tales of old…

Autumn once more reconvenes

transporting us back to childhood dreams.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Happy birthday to SJM. Remembering the Octobers of our childhood. You would invite us to your house for your birthday party. We'd come in costume, bob for apples, play games. Had to love those stiff plastic masks with the elastic to hold them on. Couldn't hardly see out the eyes or breath through the nose! Ahhh, sweet memories of youth!!

Testament

Why should we believe her?

We never met her, we don’t know her

but somewhere in our lives we knew someone—

a friend, a classmate, a cousin

who experienced something:

rape, molestation, abuse—

at the hands of someone they knew

  or perhaps just met;

Someone they trusted,

or didn’t know well enough yet to trust.

A classmate, a friend, a familiar adult—

someone who took “no” as “yes”

took advantage of the situation

of their youth, their naïveté,

the fact that they were alone

   if only for a moment.

Perhaps they were drinking … perhaps not.

Whatever happened, whenever it happened

does not diminish the fact that it did happen;

   that it wasn’t asked for,

   that it wasn’t wanted.

Boys will be boys? 

How many men do you know

who would force a woman against their will?

Would you? Seriously, would you??

I believe her.

I have no doubt she remembers

          ...because I do
             I remember. 

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Views from the Past

I never saw you as beautiful

you were always just there;

a vestige, a mile-marker of childhood.

When I was old enough I moved away,

escaped the dark side of my youth.

And now I see that you remained

—inventing, reinventing—

somewhat changed, but still the same.

My view of you is changing too—

Once I thought you held me back

your memory brought mixed reviews

bittersweet and interlaced

with loss and pain and awkwardness

—so many things I once suppressed

but none of which I could erase.

Was only trying to find my way 

and so, it seems, that you were too,

a place to fit, somehow belong...

I took a circumventious route—

an awkward child who found her voice.

You stayed and grew into the land,

each one making our own choice.

Full circle, how things come around…

I see the child I once knew

and see you now for who you are

awakened to the current view.

How sad the years that slipped us by,

but cannot dwell in “should-have-beens”

  you are you and I am I

  – perhaps we might begin again?

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Both personifying the place I came from,
and reflecting back on some who 

influenced who I would become.

Image taken by Photographer Anne Collins who shares her beautiful images on my hometown site called "Growing Up in Bellows Falls." Looking northbound on the Connecticut River.

Used with expressed written permission.

Three for Kersie

Blazing Her Own Trail

Her spirit rises from within

She sees the world as it should be

and sets her course accordingly

An old soul in a young girl’s skin

with steadfast gaze, new trails to blaze

a fiery storm behind sweet grin

…and so begins her odyssey

her spirit rising from within.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Oh Captain, My Captain…

The tiny helmsman takes control—

determined, never showing fear

committed, steadfast in her role.

The tiny helmsman takes control

though course ahead remains unclear

she pushes past the rocky shoals.

This tiny helmsman in control;

determined, never showing fear.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

Tiny Pirate

Softly ceding to the night

the sun has sung itself to sleep,

while moon awakens with delight.

The fairies dance in waning light

as banshees beat a fast retreat

receding swiftly into night.

One by one the stars shine bright

across the dark expanse they sweep

as moon expresses her delight!

The sea monsters have taken flight,

again returning to the deep—

swift now ceding to the night.

The will o’ the wisps and woodland sprites

into the foggy meadows creep;

the moon observes them with delight.

Illuminated by pale light

lies tiny pirate, fast asleep;

so soft receding into night—

the moon enrapt with pure delight.

© Ginny Brannan 2018

I am totally enamored by this feisty and formidable little redhead! We recently spent a weekend in Maine with her and her grandparents where she and I spent a morning trying to "escape the sea monsters" and when that didn't seem to work we fed them "ice cream and cookies!!" These 3 pieces are inspired by her personality and her very active imagination. Such fun we had!! 

For Kersie with love.

Photos by Charlie Parant at Appetite for Photos blog

Also on Facebook: Appetite for Photos

Used with expressed written permission from photographer.

Casualties

We were young then,

kids really…unrefined;

awkward, selfish, ignorant, blind—

stumbling along toward destinations unknown

leaving behind a smattering of fractured hearts

on the shard-strewn road to adulthood.

I could blame it on our innocence,

youthful fear or ignorance

but nothing would be gained.

You and I were never meant to be,

just casualties on the pathway to maturity.

Yet, I'm sorry if I caused you pain.

And I, in turn, have not been left unscathed—

and so forgive the ones who’ve done the same.

For you, who from my past I still recall,

amid the many memories eroding

on the convoluted paths from there to here,

that we even crossed at all is worth our noting.

© Ginny Brannan 2018