self image

Self-Worth Abraded

Subject to abuse
Sanity at breaking point
Self-worth abraded

A rough week provides the inspiration to make use of Ronovan’s Word of the Week: abrade – to rub or wear away especially by friction; to wear down in spirit.

Red Discs Cranking?

Images of red discs,
Worn by a slow cranking shaft –
Yet to understand

a genuine account of an abstract daydream, shared in response to today’s prompt at The Daily Post – my failure to make sense of my own daydream did make me a little ‘cranky’.

‘Love After Love’ by Derek Walcott (RIP)

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

“I have never separated the writing of poetry from prayer. I have grown up believing it is a vocation, a religious vocation.”
– Derek Walcott, poet and Nobel laureate (1930 – 2017)

The Mirror

My mirror is dull,
fogged and tarnished,
Cracked and warped
beyond repair.
My own reflection
is so diminished –
Is that really me
I see in there?

‘Here, use mine,’
says the Father,
‘It’s always shining,
crystal clear.
See me smiling,
over your shoulder?
Ready to wipe
your welling tears?’

Anyone
may use that mirror,
One unsullied
by this world’s lies.
Embed that truth,
make it a pillar,
And smile right back
at His smiling eyes.

“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.”
– 2 Corinthians 3:18 (NKJV)

originally written in 2014, and re-worked following today’s prompt at The Daily Post – “recognize”

Uneven Breaths

Uneven breaths,
Irregular beats;
Anxiety pangs
Tearing at my chest;
From wit’s end
To misery;
From there
To journey’s end?
Anxiety short-circuits
Mind, body; journey.

Listen to my words, Lord,
consider my lament.
Hear my cry for help,
my King and my God,
for to you I pray.

written in response to today’s prompt at The Daily Post, and concluding with verses 1-2 of Psalm 5

Darkness Returns #writephoto

Dark Clouds Sunburst #writephoto

Darkness returns
Storm clouds close in
Tight chest, dull pain
Anxiety aches

Dulled mind cries out
Numbed to the world
Empty heart sighs
“Enough, enough . . . ”

Days – no purpose
Life – meaningless
When will it end?
Where is the Sun?

written in response to today’s daily prompt at The Daily Post, and the #writephoto prompt at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo

Life is Meaningless

Days without purpose
Have I forsaken myself?
Life is meaningless

written in response to today’s daily prompt at The Daily Post

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”
says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.”
– Ecclesiastes 1:2