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

Broken Places

 

A tangible intangible, grief…

a culmination of so many emotions–

pain, anger, sadness, relief;

all things we cannot see, but sure as hell feel.

It’s a process of coming to terms

with a loss unexpected, out of the blue;

or perhaps through a course

of days, months, or years, where 

all of our tears are spent, not in a singular event,  

but on the road that brought us here.

We are the summation of all that we do,

 and a product of all who touch our lives.

Our superpower comes from within us,

and our fortitude from the diversity that we face.

The skin of our scars is tough for a reason:

for we are ever stronger in all the ‘broken’ places.

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art. Every break is unique and instead of repairing an item like new, the 400-year-old technique actually highlights the "scars" as a part of the design. Using this as a metaphor for healing ourselves teaches us an important lesson: Sometimes in the process of repairing things that have broken, we actually create something more unique, beautiful and resilient.

                                                                   ~Candace Kumai

Vultures

 

To be scrutinized for what we say

—was what was said what we intended?

And was it really conscious choice,

or just something you invented?

It’s strange, those ready to believe

the worst in one who gives their best.

Perhaps this life is just a test.

And if a test, I doubt we’ll pass.

When our judgment comes at last 

and we sit before the throne

will we be judged by who we are

and all the good that we intoned?

Or by misspoken word or line

that followed us through space and time

as vultures that we’ve never met

sit inside their cozy homes

and through their window screens attempt

to cast their multitude of stones

and shatter lives they’ve never known.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

Sisyphus

 

Who knew how steep the path would be?

How every step exacts a cost?

I’ll not solicit sympathy

for we each carry our own loss.

 

Like Sisyphus we climb that hill

along a slow and winding path;

the boulder rolls before us still

cruel penance from a god who laughs.

 

So accustomed we’ve become

of so much loss, so little gained…

our limbs grow tired, our body numb

while acclimating to the pain.

 

We cannot dwell on might-have-beens

in lieu of all we’ve known and seen;

the hour grows late still we contend

the endless torment of this dream.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

First Light

Castings of white in the early morn ­

soft blanket of frost upon the grass;

it coats the barren sleeping oak,

the maple and the evergreens—

what, pray tell, has come to pass?

The fairies and woodland sprites

have enlisted the north wind to their aid

and in the sleepy, predawn light

we are greeted by this sight

woven throughout a winter’s night.

 

© Ginny Brannan 2023

A Bit of Spackle and Some Glue...

 

I can’t tell you how it will happen

the moment the light fades

and the darkness swallows  you,

of the crushing weight of just trying to catch your breath

I can’t tell you of the days that follow

one bleeding into another, running on autopilot

the fog of just getting through them.

And the rain that appears, unannounced,

falling whether we want it or not.

Milestones are the hardest,

every Monday, every 7^th,  every holiday.

“Keep your mind busy, it’ll get better”

the lie you tell yourself because you can’t imagine 

that this could be all that is left.

I can’t tell you when it changes;

when the boulder you carry 

becomes lighter, less noticeable, or when 

you can finally whisper the memories

and feel only their warmth, not overwhelming

regret for all that could have been.

I can’t tell you when the shadows will recede

or when the light will finally crack through the darkness

reflecting back the happiness you still ferry;

never actually gone, just lost for a while.

Time doesn’t heal all of our wounds

but it teaches us how to live with them.

We draw strength from all that we’ve been through

and all that that has brought us to this point.

Love comes in many forms,

and it is the love

that gets us through

that gets us past

and finally heals us.

© Ginny Brannan 2022