Some days are light,
other days are dark,
a few days are grey,
rare days are yellow.
Often we are wading through,
hoping for a better tomorrow,
dreaming about another past,
living each day, day by day.
Haiku: Hug & Tea
Mum, you are over
three thousand kilometres from
a hug and some tea.
Sacrament
This piece is about my late Father, a paranoid schizophrenic, and me, the one who could not break free from his words and the feelings of guilt I felt for him until I was 20.
A visible symbol of the reality of god,
the sacrament awaits a blessing from the priest.
Veiled and obedient, you take the Eucharist without question;
the closest you will get to god as an imperfect woman.
You sit down veiled, hidden, obedient, and controlled;
you must kneel beside Father as he whispers, ‘You are possessed’.
The veil hides the shame of what you know; you do not believe the words your Father speaks, and you do not believe the man at the altar.
The burden of knowledge and your quiet nature hide the truth inside;
Does your Father know you do not believe in his paranoia and lies?
You walk home beside your Father as you have done for so long.
Caged by your Father; no friends, no one to call, no home, no family.
The walls close in as he offers you a glass of milk and then speaks to you for six hours about your possession, secret government plots, and your mother.
You know no way to break free from this cage; there isn’t much left, and all you have is rage.
A burning fire to succeed, to be free of him, and to be free of his words and schizophrenia.
Luck finds you in the form of education.
You break free from his cage, only to discover it was never the man at
the altar you hated; it was the man who stood by your side: your Father.
Little Tragedies
You move through life
weathering the pain and suffering
of many little tragedies.
Misunderstood at work,
you suffer for the sake of a wage,
never to see a promotion.
Held in broad daylight,
your bag ripped from your shoulder
while people are watching;
Grandma’s heirloom was lost forever.
Walking in the afternoon,
the beautiful park full of fluffy animals,
you never had a chance;
bitten by a naughty dog off the leash.
Unfairness at your home,
never fully appreciated and adored,
you sit up into the night,
escaping into other worlds, fantasy.
When the big tragedies
begin, you wonder about the little
tragedies you suffered.
Looking back, you realise the little
tragedies prepared you for this.
Tanka: Breath of Dawn
Wild Country Winter
The crisp foggy breath of dawn
Dreams in the Backyard
Touching nature’s moss carpet
Dancing amongst the lush Weeds
White and Cold
A fairytale of virginal purity,
a sleeping girl kissed
without consent by a prince.
Growing up watching Disney,
everything ends well
as darkness loses to the light.
A reality set in violent horror,
a cold and white war
where you have no choices.
Grown-up and now a realist,
nothing ends well
as the dark and the light lose.
Pang of Regret
You are so far down.
The rose falls upon you, yet
you are so far down.
No more discussions
about what you did last week.
No more of your voice.
Now dead and buried.
A pang of regret grips me;
I missed seeing you.
Haiku: Chill
Oppressively hot,
humidity in the south,
fan, cooling, and chill.
La Luna
Dancing within our words,
sitting by the amber lamplight.
Looking at the other,
we see particles of starlight.
Loving what is blooming,
La Luna words by the moonlight.
Haiku: Reflex
The old-growth forest
disappearing from this land
for reflex paper
C & K 