I search for a signal
as I try to decipher
the incoming codes—
communication is sporadic at best
at worst, non-existent.
The voices that I hear are jumbled,
no clear beacon can be found.
We used to shout from room to room
unable to understand what the other was saying
yet only a step away to clarify the sound.
How quiet the house with no voice forthcoming,
how empty the heart now locked in silence
searching for wholeness in this vacuum of grief.
© Ginny Brannan 2021
Is it the giving of a life?
Or the one that’s left behind
picking up the pieces
of a torn and shattered soul?
Is it the one who gave their all,
or the ones who still remain
carrying their loved one
in a heart upon a chain?
The star that burned so bright
becomes elusive in the distance,
the song of the survivors
bittersweet in it’s refrain…
We cannot change reality
as past slips into memory
tucked away in box and frame.
How does one respond?
We only know they’re gone.
© Ginny Brannan 2021
I saw you last night
while streaming Netflix with our boy:
Star Trek “Enterprise”
fourth and final season,
final episode—
Commander Charles “Trip” Tucker, a series favorite,
self-taught, funny, wore his heart on his sleeve—
makes a conscious choice to protect those he loves.
Even as he is rushed to sick bay
and loaded into the hyperbaric chamber
he turns and gives a wink and a smile;
through his pain still trying to put others at ease.
And in that millisecond I saw you,
that same wink, that same smile
kidding with the nurses as you tried to ease our pain.
I guess even in fictional space, folks
do what they do for the people they love,
just as we did for each other
—just as you did for us
© GB 2021
Not poetry, just thoughts to paper...because sometimes things must be written.
The grass is up to my knees
along with the dandelions and weeds–
well, that may be ever-so-slightly exaggerated...
Since April, there has been an abundance of clouds.
The rains came heavily at first, and the grayness
hung like a weight not wanting to let go.
But I’ve been noticing the colors more of late,
the flowers in my yard growing with a zeal and abundance
I have never observed before.
And interspersed with rain have come golden sunsets,
the light in the western sky stretching late into evening.
I am reminded of a thousand sunsets shared
and trust that they’re being seen through my eyes now.
So if you’re wondering how I am doing
in the midst of your own busy day,
the rain is subsiding, and I am okay.
© Ginny Brannan 2021
You ask me “How are you doing?”
How am I supposed to answer?
What do you expect me to say?
My standard is “Better this week than last.”
At least I didn’t cry my way home from work
each day, or fall apart at the end of the week.
I sigh a lot these days…
The sunshine and spring blooms
are almost too much to bear.
I am no stranger to hardship,
but this? It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
You tell me ”It’ll get better with time.”
Crawl inside my skin and convince me.
Carry the weight in your chest, the knot in your stomach
the catch in your throat, the hole in your heart…
till then, don’t ask me how I am doing
unless you’ve felt the same.
© GB 2021
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
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
