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
Why do we try to reconnect,
to seek out names that we once knew?
To find where they landed? To learn their fate?
Is it just to set our memories straight?
Why insist on recapturing this past that exists
only in our mind's eye; a dimming collage
of youthful desires and broken dreams
seen in fading colors and sepia-toned themes.
Were we really so different from one another?
Each of us pursuing our own place as we chased
obscure shadows toward a future unknown;
each searching for salvation on this road to perdition
where time has become the great equalizer
between our cradle and the grave
© Ginny Brannan 2022
I know this passage only too well
each turn, each bend
each stone unturned
how far it wends
the paths pursued
the roads not taken.
I will not be sullied by my choices
wise or foolish, brave or weak
each decision is my own to bear
Of regrets, I never speak;
no point in keeping score…
You always said that you loved me
I know I loved you more
© Ginny Brannan 2022
I wanted to write of the sunlight
how bright the days are turning
the sound of March winds through the trees
the spring birds singing with delight
how new life is returning
How through it all I hear your voice
your presence still surrounds me
I talk to you as if you’re here
I really do not have a choice
for it is you that grounds me
But I am not some brittle shell
I garner strength through being
through each day lived and each day loved
in each hello or fond farewell
in every moment breathing
and so the sun will shine once more
and so the rains will come
and hope grows like the fragile stem
that breaks the ground to rise again
by will, it overcomes
© Ginny Brannan 2022
Photo: Charles Parant Appetite for Photos. Used with expressed written permission.
Hills and valleys, turns and twists,
we are strapped into this ride
each mountain climbed attests to glory
every cog, part of our story.
Such a ride, hard to resist!
The clickety-clack of well-used track
echoes through the wooden rails
And though it seems we’ve just begun
our days of youth now come undone.
But still we chug to scale the hills,
another dip, another turn
so often fears are amplified…
climb aboard, or just exist?
Valiantly, I choose the ride!
© Ginny Brannan 2022
We don’t talk about the dark places
the empty spaces that eat our souls,
nor wallow in the mire of lost desire.
There’s no reversing the hands of time,
ever forward, no rewind.
If we stop, we’re left behind.
In this cycle, no surprises
the sun sinks down, the new moon rises.
We both knew all good things must end.
Wishful thinking notwithstanding,
we can’t dismiss the understanding
that there’s no going back again.
While shadows envelop these days,
I seek my hope inside the rays
that filter through the rain and mist;
and turning back against the night
impeach the darkness to desist—
yet as I walk this finite plain,
I trust that we will meet again
© Ginny Brannan 2022
When everything goes status quo
and you’re no longer “relevant,”
and people go about their lives
and think you insignificant,
so you decide to start a war
bring guns and planes, and armament
a force of will on full display
between despot and president.
We watch from half a world away
anticipating what comes next.
What will come of this dispute?
What catastrophic end of day?
Our politicians posturing,
to minimize and underplay.
Shall we stand or do we flee?
What advantage will be gained?
I’ll side with democracy
and I for one stand with Ukraine
© GB 2022
