Tanka Challenge 1

Spring flowers color

a brittle winter burned world

with colors ablaze.

Awake! The sun is calling

us: Arise with the flowers.

The Bonding

The first time I saw you

oh, you were so tiny

a petite little boy

wet hair plastered to your head

eyes closed tightly

startle response times ten.

You did not like this new

cold

bright world where nothing held you securely.

They whisked you away

as they did then

I had not even touched you yet.

Later, in my room

clean and prettied up

she brought you to me

rolling you down the hall

around a corner

into my room

and parked you just out of my reach.

Once she left

I got out of bed

walked straight to you

my little one.

Reaching in to pick you up

I held you close

Your fussing stopped

as you felt my heartbeat

heard my voice

and felt secure in my arms.

It was then I loved you

relaxed finally

as you fell asleep. 

Season of Healing (PAD Prompt)

I have come

to a place where

my threat no longer lives.

He is gone.

Forever gone,

ashes buried in the earth.

Still I find

I feel fear

threat

anxiety

washing over me

threatening to drown

waves surfers wait for

as challenge of their ability.

Depression so dark

it is impossible to see anything

in front of me

and I struggle between

living with it

accepting what he is still

doing to me

even in death

or looking up

toward the peak

seeking hand and toe holds

no matter how small

to grip on

my way back.

I decide to look up

even in the midst of a moonless night

and I reach

feeling for that small but strong

ledge to grab onto

and a toe hold

where I can dig my toes in

and push pull my way up

out of his death grip

moving slowly

with a goal in sight:

the peak of the mountain.

It is an almost impossible climb

from hell's depths

to this season of healing.

I will make it.

Haunted

My mom is getting the finishing touches done--"Have you all gone to the bathroom?" "Stand still!" "Put your boots on first, then your mittens." The three of us, the sisters, tromp tromp tromp out the front door, across the porch, and out the screen door. "Don't slam the door!" shouts mom. After mom closes the door, I gaze out, my eyes gulping everything in. I love the bright sparkles the sun makes on the new snowfall. Trees are wearing coats, the car is under a thick hat. With such a wonderland, how could I feel any cold?

We tromp, tromp, tromp through the snow, lifting knees high. We work on a snow man, but can't find sticks for arms or anything for eyes. He remains faceless, and has no arms. Snowballs. Cold, cold. My cheeks feel hot. I know they are red. Mittens are soaked now. Time to go in. In the screen door. "Don't slam the door!" shouts mom. Tromp tromp tromp across the porch, stopping at the front door. We are taking off wet mittens and hats, coats and scarfs, sweaters and the loathed snow pants, boots and shoes that are never protected quite enough. We go inside and mom has made us hot cocoa. Not hot chocolate. Hot cocoa. I hate hot cocoa.

New morning, and new snow has buried the old. We stumble out of bed. "Where is the snow shovel?" dad asked. "I don't know," we all say. "Get dressed, go out in the back yard, and find it.  Now." His stern voice leads us to obey.  No questions, no resistance.  This morning the snow has no sparkles.  We walk past the snow man, and soundlessly, with dead eyes, drag, drag our feet until someone's boot bumps it, and we can go in for breakfast.

Hot

Crepe myrtles in full bloom

petals falling

bark peeling drifting to the ground

where they crunch loudly

pleasantly beneath my feet

young shoots from the foot of the trees

grow no matter the searing sun or

lack of drink

Arise

You turned my wailing into dancing; 

You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy

(Psalm 30:11)

There are still things that struggle within me,

battles going round, round tumbling in my head.

Reminders in places I used to go

now anxiety causing

panic inducing

until I quickly shut down and say

I will not go there again,

it is better to stay a prisoner

Holy places that should bring comfort

are good for a moment

but my mind has not forgotten terror

of what happened while I was

absent from my watch.

I leave too quickly 

still wanting to be

allowed to stay.

Music I heard in times ago still bring

sadness joy memories 

my tapping foot

turns into a nervous agitation 

too much

too much to bear

the changes I cannot get past.

But G-d said I am mighty.

Mighty strength is in me

it will not let me

succumb to the apprehension that threatens

an uprising in my heart mind soul.

I will dance in place of crying

sing rather than fear

and walk, purposefully, one foot in front of the other

slowly making my way forward.

Battle causing 

fear creating 

paralyzing monster:

I will arise.

Hurricane (PAD Prompt)

I kept watch at my bedroom window, looking for signs of wind strength.

The old trees in the park across the street

with their 100 year old

thick trunks limbs

deep roots

will not bend.

Strong winds could break them.

Please don't let them break I whispered.

They are too regal to let them break.

In front and to the side of the house is

a birch tree

with green-yellow leaves

white peeling bark

young and slender.

I watch, waiting to see how far it bends.

Thunder lightening wind rain

all splatter against my window.

It grows darker darker

clouds cannot be picked out in the sky

where everything is gray.

Electrical wires sway violently

the birch begins to bow

lower lower

branches sweep the ground

leaves fly away

dancing in the air

pushed along

sticking to my porch roof

the street below

the windows of the house next door.

The wind is angry now

beating the birch

hoping for submission

but the birch only bows,

takes a breath,

and stands up again.